/  f 


o 


Captain  Dieppe 


|W1V.  OF  CAUF.  LWRABY,  LOS 


Captain  Dieppe 


By 


Anthony  Hope 

Author  of  "  The  Prisoner  of  Zenda," 
"Rupert  of  Hentzau,"  etc.,  etc. 


Doubleday,  Page  &  Co. 
New  York  1902 


<o 


Copyright,  1899,  by  ANTHONY  HOPE  HAWKINS. 
Copyright,  1899,  by  CURTIS  PUBLISHING  Co. 
Copyright,  1900,  by  ANTHONY  HOPE  HAWKINS. 


CONTENTS 

CHAPTER  PAGK 

i.  THE  HOUSE  ON  THE  BLUFF  .  .      3 

n.  THE  MAN  BY  THE  STREAM    .  .    23 

in.  THE  LADY  IN  THE  GARDEN  .  .    39 

iv.  THE  INN  IN  THE  VILLAGE     .  .    56 

v.  THE  RENDEZVOUS  BY  THE  CROSS    75 

vi.  THE  HUT  IN  THE  HOLLOW    .  .    92 

vn.  THE  FLOOD  ON  THE  RIVER  .  .  116 

viii.  THE  CARRIAGE  AT  THE  FORD  .  139 

ix.  THE  STRAW  IN  THE  CORNER  .  .  162 

x.  THE  JOURNEY  TO  ROME    .    .  .  185 

xi.  THE  LUCK  OF  THE  CAPTAIN  .  .  209 


Captain  Dieppe 


Captain  Dieppe 

CHAPTER  I 

THE   HOUSE   ON   THE  BLUFF 

To  the  eye  of  an  onlooker  Captain 
Dieppe's  circumstances  afforded  high 
spirits  no  opportunity,  and  made  or- 
dinary cheerfulness  a  virtue  which  a 
stoic  would  not  have  disdained  to  own. 
Fresh  from  the  failure  of  important 
plans;  if  not  exactly  a  fugitive,  still  a 
man  to  whom  recognition  would  be  in- 
convenient and  perhaps  dangerous ;  with 
fifty  francs  in  his  pocket,  and  his  spare 
wardrobe  in  a  knapsack  on  his  back; 
without  immediate  prospect  of  future 
employment  or  a  replenishment  of  his 
purse ;  yet  by  no  means  in  his  first  youth 
3 


Captain  Dieppe 

or  of  an  age  when  men  love  to  begin  the 
world  utterly  afresh ;  in  few  words,  with 
none  of  those  inner  comforts  of  the  mind 
which  make  external  hardships  no  more 
than  a  pleasurable  contrast,  he  marched 
up  a  long  steep  hill  in  the  growing  dusk 
of  a  stormy  evening,  his  best  hope  to 
find,  before  he  was  soaked  to  the  skin, 
some  poor  inn  or  poorer  cottage  where 
he  might  get  food  and  beg  shelter  from 
the  severity  of  the  wind  and  rain  that 
swept  across  the  high  ground  and 
swooped  down  on  the  deep  valleys,  seem- 
ing to  assail  with  a  peculiar,  conscious 
malice  the  human  figure  which  faced 
them  with  unflinching  front  and  the 
buoyant  step  of  strength  and  confidence. 
But  the  Captain  was  an  alchemist,  and 
the  dross  of  outer  events  turned  to  gold 
in  the  marvellous  crucible  of  his  mind. 
Fortune  should  have  known  this  and 
abandoned  the  vain  attempt  to  torment 
him.  He  had  failed,  but  no  other  man 
could  have  come  so  near  success.  He 
was  alone,  therefore  free :  poor,  therefore 
4 


The  House  on  the  Bluff 


independent:  desirous  of  hiding,  there- 
fore of  importance:  in  a  foreign  land, 
therefore  well  placed  for  novel  and 
pleasing  accidents.  The  rain  was  a  drop 
and  the  wind  a  puff:  if  he  were  wet,  it 
would  be  delightf ul  to  get  dry ;  since  he 
was  hungry,  no  inn  could  be  too  humble 
and  no  fare  too  rough.  Fortune  should 
indeed  have  set  him  on  high,  and  turned 
her  wasted  malice  on  folk  more  pene- 
trable by  its  stings. 

The  Captain  whistled  and  sang.  What 
a  fright  he  had  given  the  Ministers,  how 
nearly  he  had  brought  back  the  Prince, 
what  an  uncommon  and  intimate  satis- 
faction of  soul  came  from  carrying,  under 
his  wet  coat,  lists  of  names,  letters,  and 
what  not — all  capable  of  causing  tremors 
in  high  quarters,  and  of  revealing  in 
spheres  of  activity  hitherto  unsuspected 
gentlemen— aye,  and  ladies— of  the  lofti- 
est position;  all  of  whom  (the  Captain 
was  piling  up  his  causes  of  self-congrat- 
ulation) owed  their  present  safety,  and 
directed  their  present  anxieties,  to  him, 
5 


Captain  Dieppe 

Jean  Dieppe,  and  to  nobody  else  in  the 
world.  He  broke  off  his  whistling  to 
observe  aloud : 

"  Mark  this,  it  is  to  very  few  that  there 
comes  a  life  so  interesting  as  mine";  and 
his  tune  began  again  with  an  almost  rol- 
licking vigour. 

What  he  said  was  perhaps  true  enough, 
if  interest  consists  (as  many  hold)  in  un- 
certainty ;  in  his  case  uncertainty  both  of 
life  and  of  all  that  life  gives,  except  that 
one  best  thing  which  he  had  pursued— 
activity.  Of  fame  he  had  gained  little, 
peace  he  had  never  tasted ;  of  wealth  he 
had  never  thought;  of  love— ah,  of  love 
now?  His  smile  and  the  roguish  shake 
of  his  head  and  pull  at  his  long  black 
moustache  betrayed  no  dissatisfaction  on 
that  score.  And  as  a  fact  (a  thing  which 
must  at  the  very  beginning  be  distin- 
guished from  an  impression  of  the  Cap- 
tain's), people  were  in  the  habit  of  loving 
him :  he  never  expected  exactly  this,  al- 
though he  had  much  self-confidence. 
Admiration  was  what  he  readily  enough 
6 


The  House  on  the  Bluff 


conceived  himself  to  inspire ;  love  was  a 
greater  thing.  On  the  whole,  a  fine  life 
— why,  yes,  a  very  fine  life  indeed;  and 
plenty  of  it  left,  for  he  was  but  thirty- 
nine. 

"  It  really  rains,"  he  remarked  at  last, 
with  an  air  of  amiable  surprise.  "  I  am 
actually  getting  wet.  I  should  be  pleased 
to  come  to  a  village." 

Fortune  may  be  imagined  as  petu- 
lantly flinging  this  trifling  favour  at  his 
head,  in  the  hope,  maybe,  of  making  him 
realise  the  general  undesirability  of  his 
lot.  At  any  rate,  on  rounding  the  next 
corner  of  the  ascending  road,  he  saw  a 
small  village  lying  beneath  him  in  the 
valley.  Immediately  below  him,  at  the 
foot  of  what  was  almost  a  precipice,  ap- 
proached only  by  a  rough  zigzag  path, 
lay  a  little  river ;  the  village  was  directly 
opposite  across  the  stream,  but  the  road, 
despairing  of  such  a  dip,  swerved  sharp 
otf  to  his  left,  and,  descending  gradually, 
circled  one  end  of  the  valley  till  it  came 
to  a  bridge  and  thence  made  its  way 
7 


Captain  Dieppe 

round  to  the  cluster  of  houses.  There 
were  no  more  than  a  dozen  cottages,  a 
tiny  church,  and  an  inn— certainly  an 
inn,  thought  Dieppe,  as  he  prepared  to 
follow  the  road  and  pictured  his  supper 
already  on  the  fire.  But  before  he  set 
out,  he  turned  to  his  right ;  and  there  he 
stood  looking  at  a  scene  of  some  beauty 
and  of  undeniable  interest.  A  moment 
later  he  began  to  walk  slowly  up-hill  in 
the  opposite  direction  to  that  which  the 
road  pursued;  he  was  minded  to  see  a 
little  more  of  the  big  house  perched  so 
boldly  on  that  bluff  above  the  stream, 
looking  down  so  scornfully  at  the  humble 
village  on  the  other  bank. 

But  habitations  are  made  for  men,  and 
to  Captain  Dieppe  beauties  of  position  or 
architecture  were  subordinate  to  any  in- 
dications he  might  discover  or  imagine 
of  the  characters  of  the  folk  who  dwelt 
in  a  house  and  of  their  manner  of  living. 
Thus,  not  so  much  the  position  of  the 
Castle  (it  could  and  did  claim  that  title), 
or  its  handsome  front,  or  the  high  wall 
8 


The  House  on  the  Bluff 


that  enclosed  it  and  its  demesne  on  every 
side  save  where  it  faced  the  river,  caught 
his  attention  as  the  apparently  trifling 
fact  that,  whereas  one  half  of  the  facade 
was  brilliant  with  lights  in  every  window, 
the  other  half  was  entirely  dark  and, 
to  all  seeming,  uninhabited.  "  They  are 
poor,  they  live  in  half  the  rooms  only," 
he  said  to  himself.  But  somehow  this 
explanation  sounded  inadequate.  He 
drew  nearer,  till  he  was  close  under  the 
wall  of  the  gardens.  Then  he  noticed 
a  small  gate  in  the  wall,  sheltered  by 
a  little  projecting  porch.  The  Captain 
edged  under  the  porch,  took  out  a  cigar, 
contrived  to  light  it,  and  stood  there 
puffing  pensively.  He  was  protected 
from  the  rain,  which  now  fell  very  heav- 
ily, and  he  was  asking  himself  again  why 
only  half  the  house  was  lighted  up.  This 
was  the  kind  of  trivial,  yet  whimsical,  puz- 
zle on  which  he  enjoyed  trying  his  wits. 
He  had  stood  where  he  was  for  a  few 
minutes  when  he  heard  steps  on  the  other 
side  of  the  wall ;  a  moment  later  a  key 
9 


Captain  Dieppe 

turned  in  the  lock  and  the  gate  opened. 
Dieppe  turned  to  find  himself  confronted 
by  a  young  man  of  tall  stature ;  the  dim 
light  showed  only  the  vague  outline  of 
a  rather  long  and  melancholy,  but  cer- 
tainly handsome,  face ;  the  stranger's  air 
was  eminently  distinguished.  Dieppe 
raised  his  hat  and  bowed. 

"You  '11  excuse  the  liberty,"  he  said, 
smiling.  "  I  'm  on  my  way  to  the  village 
yonder  to  find  quarters  for  the  night. 
Your  porch  offered  me  a  short  rest  and 
shelter  from  the  rain  while  I  smoked  a 
cigar.  I  presume  that  I  have  the  honour 
of  addressing  the  owner  of  this  fine 
house  ? " 

"You  're  right,  sir.  I  am  the  Count 
of  Fieramondi,"  said  the  young  man, 
"  and  this  is  my  house.  Do  me  the  favour 
to  enter  it  and  refresh  yourself." 

"  Oh,  but  you  entertain  company,  and 
look  at  me ! "  With  a  smile  Dieppe  in- 
dicated his  humble  and  travel- worn  ap- 
pearance. 

"  Company  ?    None,  I  assure  you." 
10 


The  House  on  the  Bluff 


"  But  the  lights  ? "  suggested  the  Cap- 
tain, with  a  wave  of  his  hand. 

"You  will  find  me  quite  alone,"  the 
Count  assured  him,  as  he  turned  into  the 
garden  and  motioned  his  guest  to  follow. 

Crossing  a  path  and  a  stretch  of  grass, 
they  entered  a  room  opening  immediately 
on  the  garden;  it  was  large  and  high. 

Situated  at  the  corner  of  the  house,  it 
had  two  windows  facing  on  the  garden 
and  two  towards  the  river.  It  was  richly 
and  soberly  furnished,  and  hung  with 
family  portraits.  A  blazing  fire  revealed 
these  features  to  Dieppe,  and  at  the  same 
time  imparted  a  welcome  glow  to  his 
body.  The  next  minute  a  man-servant 
entered  with  a  pair  of  candlesticks,  which 
he  set  on  the  table. 

"  I  am  about  to  dine,"  said  the  Count. 
"Will  you  honour  me  with  your  com- 
pany ?  " 

"Your  kindness  to  a  complete  stran- 
ger—" Dieppe  began. 

"The  kindness  will  be  yours.  Com- 
pany is  a  favour  to  one  who  lives  alone." 
11 


Captain  Dieppe 

And  the  Count  proceeded  to  give  the 
necessary  orders  to  his  servant.  Then, 
turning  again  to  Dieppe,  he  said,  "In 
return,  pray  let  me  know  the  name  of 
the  gentleman  who  honours  my  house." 

"  I  can  refuse  nothing  to  my  host— to 
anybody  else  my  name  is  the  only  thing 
I  should  refuse.  I  am  called  Captain 
Dieppe." 

"  Of  the  French  service  *  Though  you 
speak  Italian  excellently." 

"  Ah,  that  accent  of  mine !  No,  not  of 
the  French  service — in  fact,  not  of  any 
service.  I  have  been  in  many  services, 
but  I  can  show  you  no  commission  as 
captain." 

For  the  first  time  the  Count  smiled. 

"  It  is,  perhaps,  a  sobriquet  ? "  he  asked, 
but  with  no  offensive  air  or  insinuation. 

"The  spontaneous  tribute  of  my  com- 
rades all  over  the  world,"  answered  Dieppe, 
proudly— "is  it  for  me  to  refuse  it?" 

"  By  no  means,"  agreed  his  host,  smil- 
ing still;  "I  don't  doubt  that  you  have 
amply  earned  it." 

12 


The  House  on  the  Bluff 


Dieppe's  bow  confirmed  the  supposition 
while  it  acknowledged  the  compliment. 

Civilities  such  as  these,  when  aided  by 
dinner  and  a  few  glasses  of  red  wine, 
soon  passed  into  confidences— on  the  Cap- 
tain's side  at  least.  Accustomed  to  keep 
other  people's  secrets,  he  burdened  him- 
self with  few  of  his  own. 

"I  have  always  had  something  of  a 
passion  for  politics,"  he  confessed,  after 
giving  his  host  an  account  of  some  stir- 
ring events  in  South  America  in  which 
he  had  borne  a  part. 

"You  surprise  me,"  was  the  Count's 
comment. 

"Perhaps  I  should  say,"  Dieppe  ex- 
plained, "  for  handling  those  forces  which 
lie  behind  politics.  That  has  been  my 
profession."  The  Count  looked  up. 

"Oh,  I  'm  no  sentimentalist,"  Dieppe 
went  on.  "I  ask  for  my  pay — I  receive 
it — and  sometimes  I  contrive  to  keep  it." 

"You  interest  me,"  said  his  host,  in 
whose    manner    Dieppe    recognised    an 
attractive  simplicity. 
13 


Captain  Dieppe 

"  But  in  my  last  enterprise— well,  there 
are  accidents  in  every  trade."  His  shrug 
was  very  good-natured. 

"The  enterprise  failed?"  asked  the 
Count,  sympathetically. 

"Certainly,  or  I  should  not  be  enjoy- 
ing your  hospitality.  Moreover  I  failed 
too ;  for  I  had  to  skip  out  of  the  country 
in  such  haste  that  I  left  behind  me  fifty 
thousand  francs,  and  the  police  have  laid 
hands  on  it.  It  was  my— what  shall  I 
call  it  ?  My  little  pwirboire."  He  sighed 
lightly,  and  then  smiled  again.  "  So  I 
am  a  homeless  wanderer,  content  if  I  can 
escape  the  traps  of  police  agents." 

"  You  anticipate  being  annoyed  in  that 
way?" 

"  They  are  on  my  track,  depend  upon 
it."  He  touched  the  outside  of  his  breast 
pocket.  "I  carry— but  no  matter.  The 
pursuit  only  adds  a  spice  to  my  walks, 
and  so  long  as  I  don't  need  to  sell  my  re- 
volver for  bread—".  He  checked  himself 
abruptly,  a  frown  of  shame  or  vexation 
on  his  face.  "I  beg  your  pardon,"  he 
14 


The  House  on  the  Bluff 


went  on,  "  I  beg  your  pardon.  But  you 
won't  take  me  for  a  beggar  ? " 

"  I  regret  what  you  have  said  only  be- 
cause you  said  it  before  I  had  begged  a 
favour  of  you — a  favour  I  had  resolved 
to  venture  on  asking.  But  come,  though 
I  don't  think  you  a  beggar,  you  shall  be 
sure  that  I  am  one."  He  rose  and  laid 
his  hand  on  Dieppe's  shoulder.  "Stay 
with  me  for  to-night  at  least— and  for  as 
much  longer  as  you  will.  Nobody  will 
trouble  you.  I  live  in  solitude,  and  your 
society  will  lighten  it.  Let  me  ring  and 
give  orders  for  your  entertainment  ?  n 

Dieppe  looked  up  at  him;  the  next 
moment  he  caught  his  hand,  crying, 
"  With  all  my  heart,  dear  host !  Your 
only  difficulty  shall  be  to  get  rid  of  me." 

The  Count  rang,  and  directed  his  ser- 
vant to  prepare  the  Cardinal's  Room. 
Dieppe  noticed  that  the  order  was  re- 
ceived with  a  glance  of  surprise,  but  the 
master  of  the  house  repeated  it,  and,  as 
the  servant  withdrew,  added,  "  It  is  called 
after  an  old  member  of  our  family,  but  I 
15 


Captain  Dieppe 

can  answer  for  its  comfort  myself,  for  I 
have  occupied  it  until—" 

"I  'm  turning  you  out?"  exclaimed 
Dieppe. 

"I  left  it  yesterday."  The  Count 
frowned  as  he  sipped  his  wine.  "  I  left 
it  owing  to— er— circumstances,"  he  mur- 
mured, with  some  appearance  of  embar- 
rassment in  his  manner. 

"His  Eminence  is  restless?"  asked  the 
Captain,  laughing. 

"  I  beg  pardon  ?  " 

"I  mean— a  ghost?" 

"  No,  a  cat,"  was  the  Count's  quiet  but 
somewhat  surprising  answer. 

"  I  don't  mind  cats ;  I  am  very  fond  of 
them,"  Dieppe  declared  with  the  readiness 
of  good  breeding,  but  he  glanced  at  his 
host  with  a  curiosity  that  would  not  be 
stifled.  The  Count  lived  in  solitude. 
Half  his  house— and  that  the  other  half 
—was  brilliantly  lighted,  and  he  left  his 
bedroom  because  of  a  cat.  Here  were 
circumstances  that  might  set  the  least 
inquisitive  of  men  thinking.  It  crossed 
16 


The  House  on  the  Bluff 


Dieppe's  mind  that  his  host  was  (he  used 
a  mild  word)  eccentric,  but  the  Count's 
manner  gave  little  warrant  for  the  sup- 
position ;  and  Dieppe  could  not  believe 
that  so  courteous  a  gentleman  would 
amuse  himself  by  making  fun  of  a  guest. 
He  listened  eagerly  when  the  Count, 
after  a  long  silence,  went  on  to  say : 

"  The  reason  I  put  forward  must,  no 
doubt,  sound  ludicrous,  but  the  fact  is 
that  the  animal,  in  itself  a  harmless  beast, 
became  the  occasion,  or  was  made  the 
means,  of  forcing  on  me  encounters  with 
a  person  whom  I  particularly  wish  to 
avoid.  You,  however,  will  not  be  an- 
noyed in  that  way." 

There  he  stopped,  and  turned  the  con- 
versation to  general  topics.  Never  had 
Dieppe's  politeness  been  subjected  to 
such  a  strain. 

No  relief  was  granted  to  him.  The 
Count  talked  freely  and  well  on  a  variety 
of  questions  till  eleven  o'clock,  and  then 
proposed  to  show  his  guest  to  his  bed- 
room. Dieppe  accepted  the  offer  in  de- 
17 


Captain  Dieppe 


spair,  but  he  would  have  sat  up  all  night 
had  there  seemed  any  chance  of  the 
Count's  becoming  more  explicit. 

The  Cardinal's  Room  was  a  large 
apartment  situated  on  the  upper  floor 
(there  were  but  two),  about  the  middle  of 
the  house;  its  windows  looked  across 
the  river,  which  rippled  pleasantly  in  the 
quiet  of  the  night  when  Dieppe  flung 
up  the  sash  and  put  his  head  out.  He 
turned  first  to  the  left.  Save  his  own 
room,  all  was  dark :  the  Count,  no  doubt, 
slept  at  the  back.  Then,  craning  his 
neck,  he  tried  to  survey  the  right  wing. 
The  illumination  was  quenched;  light 
showed  in  one  window  only,  a  window  on 
the  same  level  with  his  and  distant  from 
it  perhaps  forty  feet.  With  a  deep  sigh 
the  Captain  drew  his  head  back  and  shut 
out  the  chilly  air. 

Ah,  there  was  an  inner  door  on  the 
right  hand  side  of  the  room;  that  the 
Captain  had  not  noticed  before.  Walk- 
ing up  to  it,  he  perceived  that  it  was 
bolted  at  top  and  bottom ;  but  the  key 
18 


The  House  on  the  Bluff 


was  in  the  lock.  He  stood  and  looked  at 
this  door ;  it  seemed  that  it  must  lead, 
either  directly  or  by  way  of  another 
apartment  between,  to  'the  room  whose 
lights  he  had  just  seen.  He  pulled  his 
moustache  thoughtfully;  and  he  remem- 
bered that  there  was  a  person  whom  the 
Count  particularly  wished  to  avoid  and, 
owing  (in  some  way)  to  a  cat,  could  not 
rely  on  being  able  to  avoid  if  he  slept  in 
the  Cardinal's  Room. 

"Well,  then—1'  began  Dieppe  with  a 
thoughtful  frown.  "  Oh,  I  can't  stand  it 
much  longer ! "  he  ended,  with  a  smile 
and  a  shrug. 

And  then  there  came — the  Captain  was 
really  not  surprised,  he  had  been  almost 
expecting  it—  a  mew,  a  peevish,  plaintive 
mew.  "  I  won't  open  that  door,''  said  the 
Captain.  The  complaint  was  repeated. 
"  Poor  beast !  "  murmured  the  Captain. 
"Shut  up  in  that— in  that— deuce  take 
it,  in  that  what  ? "  His  hand  shot  up  to 
the  top  bolt  and  pressed  it  softly  back. 
"No,  no,"  said  he.  Another  mew  de- 
19 


Captain  Dieppe 

feated  his  struggling  conscience.  Push- 
ing back  the  lower  bolt  in  its  turn,  he 
softly  unlocked  the  door  and  opened  it 
cautiously.  There  in  the  passage— for  a 
narrow  passage  some  twelve  or  fifteen 
feet  long  was  revealed — near  his  door, 
visible  in  the  light  from  his  room,  was  a 
large,  sleek,  yellow  cat  from  whose  mouth 
was  proceeding  energetic  lamentation. 
But  on  sight  of  Dieppe  the  creature 
ceased  its  cries,  and  in  apparent  alarm 
ran  half-way  along  the  passage  and  sat 
down  beside  a  small  hole  in  the  wall. 
From  this  position  it  regarded  the  in- 
truder with  solemn,  apprehensive  eyes. 
Dieppe,  holding  his  door  wide  open,  re- 
turned the  animal's  stare.  This  must  be 
the  cat  which  had  ejected  the  Count. 
But  why  —  ? 

In  a  moment  the  half-formed  question 
found  its  answer,  though  the  answer 
seemed  rather  to  ask  a  new  riddle  than 
to  answer  the  old  one.  A  door  at  the 
other  end  of  the  passage  opened  a  little 
way,  and  a  melodious  voice  called  softly, 
20 


The  House  on  the  Bluff 


"  Papa,  papa !  "  The  cat  ran  towards  the 
speaker,  the  door  was  opened  wide,  and 
for  an  instant  Dieppe  had  the  vision  of  a 
beautiful  young  woman,  clad  in  a  white 
dressing-gown  and  with  hair  about  her 
shoulders.  As  he  saw  her  she  saw  him, 
and  gave  a  startled  shriek.  The  cat,  ap- 
parently bewildered,  raced  back  to  the 
aperture  in  the  wall  and  disappeared  with 
an  agitated  whisk  of  its  tail.  The  lady's 
door  and  the  Captain's  closed  with  a 
double  simultaneous  reverberating  bang, 
and  the  Captain  drove  his  bolts  home 
with  guilty  haste. 

His  first  act  was  to  smoke  a  cigarette. 
That  done,  he  began  to  undress  slowly 
and  almost  unconsciously.  During  the 
process  he  repeated  to  himself  more  than 
once  the  Count's  measured  but  emphatic 
words:  "A  person  whom  I  particularly 
wish  to  avoid."  The  words  died  away  as 
Dieppe  climbed  into  the  big  four-poster 
with  a  wrinkle  of  annoyance  on  his  brow. 

For  the  lady  at  the  other  end  of  the 
passage  did  not,  to  the  Captain's  mind, 
21 


Captain  Dieppe 

look  the  sort  of  person  whom  a  hand- 
some and  lonely  young  man  would  par- 
ticularly wish  to  avoid.  In  spite  of  the 
shortness  of  his  vision,  in  spite  of  her 
obvious  alarm  and  confusion,  she  had,  in 
fact,  seemed  to  him  very  much  indeed  the 
opposite. 


CHAPTER  II 

THE  MAN   BY  THE  STREAM 

Apart  from  personal  hopes  or  designs, 
the  presence,  or  even  the  proximity,  of  a 
beautiful  woman  is  a  cheerful  thing:  it 
gives  a  man  the  sense  of  happiness,  like 
sunshine  or  sparkling  water;  these  are 
not  his  either,  but  he  can  look  at  and 
enjoy  them ;  he  smiles  back  at  the  world 
in  thanks  for  its  bountiful  favours. 
Never  had  life  seemed  better  to  Dieppe 
than  when  he  awoke  the  next  morning; 
yet  there  was  guilt  on  his  conscience— he 
ought  not  to  have  opened  that  door. 
But  the  guilt  became  parent  to  a  new 
pleasure  and  gave  him  the  one  thing 
needful  to  perfection  of  existence— a 
pretty  little  secret  of  his  own,  and  this 
time  one  that  he  was  minded  to  keep. 
23 


Captain  Dieppe 

"To  think,"  he  exclaimed,  pointing  a 
scornful  linger  at  the  village  across  the 
river,  "that  but  for  my  luck  I  might  be 
at  the  inn !  Heaven  above  us,  I  might 
even  have  been  leaving  this  enchanting 
spot !  "  He  looked  down  at  the  stream. 
A  man  was  fishing  there,  a  tall,  well-made 
fellow  in  knickerbockers  and  a  soft  felt 
hat  of  the  sort  sometimes  called  Tyrolean. 
"  Good  luck  to  you,  my  boy !  "  nodded  the 
happy  and  therefore  charitable  Captain. 

Going  down  to  the  Count's  pleasant 
room  at  the  corner  of  the  left  wing,  he 
found  his  host  taking  his  coffee.  Com- 
pliments passed,  and  soon  Dieppe  was 
promising  to  spend  a  week  at  least  with 
his  new  friend. 

"  I  am  a  student,"  observed  the  Count, 
"  and  you  must  amuse  yourself.  There 
are  fine  walks,  a  little  rough  shooting 
perhaps—" 

"Fishing?"  asked  Dieppe,  thinking  of 
the  man  in  the  soft  hat. 

"The  fishing  is  worth  nothing  at  all," 
answered  the  Count,  decisively.  He 
24 


The  Man  by  the  Stream 


paused  for  a  moment  and  then  went  on : 
''There  is,  however,  one  request  that  I 
am  obliged  to  make  to  you." 

"Any  wish  of  yours  is  a  command  to 
me,  my  dear  host." 

"  It  is  that  during  your  visit  you  will 
hold  no  communication  whatever  with 
the  right  wing  of  the  house."  The  Count 
was  now  lighting  a  cigar;  he  completed 
the  operation  carefully,  and  then  added : 
"  The  Countess's  establishment  and  mine 
are  entirely  separate — entirely." 

"  The  Countess !  "  exclaimed  Dieppe, 
not  unnaturally  surprised. 

"  I  regret  to  trouble  you  with  family 
matters.  My  wife  and  I  are  not  in  agree- 
ment ;  we  have  n't  met  for  three  months. 
She  lives  in  the  right  wing  with  two  ser- 
vants ;  I  live  in  the  left  with  three.  We 
hold  no  communication,  and  our  servants 
are  forbidden  to  hold  any  among  them- 
selves; obedience  is  easier  to  insure  as 
we  have  kept  only  those  we  can  trust, 
and,  since  entertaining  is  out  of  the  ques- 
tion, have  dismissed  the  rest." 
25 


Captain  Dieppe 

"You  have— er— had  a  difference?" 
the  Captain  ventured  to  suggest,  for  the 
Count  seemed  rather  embarrassed. 

"A  final  and  insuperable  difference,  a 
final  and  permanent  separation."  The 
Count's  tone  was  sad  but  very  firm. 

"I  am  truly  grieved.  But— forgive 
me — does  n't  the  arrangement  you  indi- 
cate entail  some  inconvenience  ? " 

"  Endless  inconvenience,"  assented  the 
Count. 

"To  live  under  the  same  roof,  and 
yet-" 

"  My  dear  sir,  during  the  negotiations 
which  followed  on  the  Countess's  refusal 
to— to  well,  to  meet  my  wishes,  I  repre- 
sented that  to  her  with  all  the  emphasis 
at  my  command.  I  am  bound  to  add 
that  she  represented  it  no  less  urgently 
to  me." 

"On  the  other  hand,  of  course,  the 
scandal—"  Dieppe  began. 

"We  Fieramondi  do  not  much  mind 
scandal.  That  was  n't  the  difficulty. 
The  fact  is  that  I  thought  it  the 
26 


The  Man  by  the  Stream 


Countess's  plain  duty  to  relieve  me  of  her 
presence.  She  took  what  I  may  call  the 
exactly  converse  view.  You  follow  me  ? " 

"  Perfectly,"  said  Dieppe,  repressing  an 
inclination  to  smile. 

"  And  declared  that  nothing— nothing 
on  earth — should  induce  her  to  quit  the 
Castle  even  for  a  day ;  she  would  regard 
such  an  act  as  a  surrender.  I  said  I 
should  regard  my  own  departure  in  the 
same  light.  So  we  stay  here  under  the 
extremely  inconvenient  arrangement  I 
have  referred  to.  To  make  sure  of  my 
noticing  her  presence,  my  wife  indulges 
in  something  approaching  to  an  illumin- 
ation every  night." 

The  Count  rose  and  began  to  walk  up 
and  down  as  he  went  on  with  a  marked 
access  of  warmth.  "  But  even  the  under- 
standing we  arrived  at,"  he  pursued,  "  I 
regret  to  say  that  my  wife  did  n't  see  fit 
to  adhere  to  in  good  faith.  She  treated 
it  with  what  I  must  call  levity."  He 
faced  round  on  his  guest  suddenly.  "I 
mentioned  a  cat  to  you,"  he  said. 
27 


Captain  Dieppe 

"You  did,"  Dieppe  admitted,  eyeing 
him  rather  apprehensively. 

"I  don't  know,"  pursued  the  Count, 
"  whether  you  noticed  a  door  in  your 
room?"  Dieppe  nodded.  "It  was 
bolted?"  Dieppe  nodded  again.  "If 
you  had  opened  that  door—pardon  the 
supposition — you  would  have  seen  a 
passage.  At  the  other  end  is  another 
door,  leading  to  the  Countess's  apart- 
ments. See,  I  will  show  you.  This  fork 
is  the  door  from  your  room ;  this  knife 
is—" 

"I  follow  your  description  perfectly," 
interposed  Dieppe,  assailed  now  with  a 
keener  sense  of  guilt. 

"  The  Countess  possesses  a  cat— a  thing 
to  which  in  itself  I  have  no  objection. 
To  give  this  creature,  which  she  likes  to 
have  with  her  constantly,  the  opportunity 
of  exercise,  she  has  caused  an  opening  to 
be  made  from  the  passage  on  to  the  roof. 
This  piece  of  bread  will  represent — " 

"I  understand,  I  assure  you,"  mur- 
mured Dieppe. 

28 


The  Man  by  the  Stream 


"Every  evening  she  lets  the  cat  into 
the  passage,  whence  it  escapes  on  to  the 
roof.  On  its  return  it  would  naturally 
betake  itself  to  her  room  again." 

"  Naturally,"  assented  the  Captain. 
Are  not  cats  most  reasonable  animals  ? 

"But,"  said  the  Count,  beginning  to 
walk  about  again,  "  she  shuts  her  door : 
the  animal  mews  at  it;  my  wife  ignores 
the  appeal.  What  then?  The  cat,  in 
despair,  turns  to  my  door.  I  take  no 
heed.  It  mews  persistently.  At  last, 
wearied  of  the  noise,  I  open  my  door. 
Always— by  design,  as  I  believe— at  that 
very  moment  my  wife  flings  her  door 
open.  You  see  the  position  ? " 

"  I  can  imagine  it,"  said  Dieppe,  dis- 
creetly. 

"We  are  face  to  face!  Nothing  be- 
tween us  except  the  passage— and  the 
cat !  And  then  the  Countess,  with  what 
I  am  compelled  to  term  a  singular  offen- 
siveness,  not  to  say  insolence,  of  manner, 
slams  the  door  in  my  face,  leaving  me  to 
deal  with  the  cat  as  I  best  can!  My 
29 


Captain  Dieppe 

friend,  it  became  intolerable.  I  sent  a 
message  begging  the  Countess  to  do  me 
the  favour  of  changing  her  apartment. 

"She  declined  point-blank.  I  deter- 
mined then  to  change  mine,  and  sent  word 
of  my  intention  to  the  Countess."  He 
flung  himself  into  a  chair.  "Her  reply 
was  to  send  back  to  me  her  marriage 
contract  and  her  wedding-ring,  and  to  beg 
to  be  informed  whether  my  present  stay 
at  the  Castle  was  likely  to  be  prolonged." 

"  And  you  replied—  ? " 

"  I  made  no  reply,"  answered  the  Count, 
crossing  his  legs. 

A  combination  of  feelings  prevented 
Dieppe  from  disclosing  the  incident  of 
the  previous  night.  He  loved  a  touch  of 
mystery  and  a  possibility  of  romance. 
Again,  it  is  not  the  right  thing  for  a 
guest  to  open  bolted  doors.  A  man  does 
not  readily  confess  to  such  a  breach  of 
etiquette,  and  his  inclination  to  make  a 
clean  breast  of  it  is  not  increased  when  it 
turns  out  that  the  door  in  question  leads 
to  the  apartments  of  his  host's  wife. 
30 


The  Man  by  the  Stream 


Finally,  the  moment  for  candour  had 
slipped  by :  you  cannot  allow  a  man  to 
explain  a  locality  by  means  of  forks  and 
knives  and  pieces  of  bread  and  then  in- 
form him  that  you  were  all  the  while  ac- 
quainted with  its  features.  Dieppe  was 
silent,  and  the  Count,  who  was  obviously 
upset  by  the  recital  of  his  grievances, 
presently  withdrew  to  his  study,  a  room 
on  the  upper  floor  which  looked  out  on 
the  gardens  at  the  back  of  the  house. 

"What  did  they  quarrel  about?" 
Dieppe  asked  himself;  the  Count  had 
thrown  no  light  on  that.  u  I  '11  be 
hanged  if  I  'd  quarrel  with  her,"  smiled 
the  Captain,  remembering  the  face  he 
had  seen  at  the  other  end  of  the  passage. 
"  But,"  he  declared  to  himself,  virtuously, 
"the  cat  may  mew  till  it's  hoarse— I 
won't  open  that  door  again."  With  this 
resolve  strong  in  his  heart,  he  took  his 
hat  and  strolled  out  into  the  garden. 

He  had  no  sooner  reached  the  front  of 
the  house  than  he  gave  an  exclamation 
of  surprise.  The  expanse  of  rather  rough 
31 


Captain  Dieppe 

grass  sprinkled  with  flower-beds,  which 
stretched  from  the  Castle  to  the  point 
where  the  ground  dipped  steeply  towards 
the  river,  was  divided  across  by  a  re- 
markable structure— a  tall,  new,  bare 
wooden  fence,  constituting  a  very  sub- 
stantial barrier.  It  stood  a  few  paces  to 
the  right  of  the  window  which  the  Cap- 
tain identified  as  his  own,  and  ran  some 
yards  down  the  hill.  Here  was  plain  and 
strong  evidence  of  the  state  of  war  which 
existed  between  the  two  wings.  Neither 
the  Count  nor  the  Countess  would  risk  so 
much  as  a  sight  of  the  other  while  they 
took  their  respective  promenades.  The 
Captain  approached  the  obstacle  and  ex- 
amined it  with  a  humorous  interest ;  then 
he  glanced  up  at  the  wall  above,  drawing 
a  couple  of  feet  back  to  get  a  better  view. 
"Ah,"  said  he,  "just  half-way  between 
my  window  and— hers !  They  are  very 
punctilious,  these  combatants !  " 

Natural  curiosity  must,  so  far  as  it  can, 
excuse  Captain  Dieppe  for  spending  the 
rest  of  the  morning  in  what  he  termed  a 
32 


The  Man  by  the  Stream 


reconnaissance  of  the  premises,  or  that 
part  of  them  which  was  open  to  his  in- 
spection. He  found  little.  There  was 
no  sign  of  anybody  entering  or  leaving 
the  other  wing,  although  (as  he  discov- 
ered on  strolling  round  by  the  road)  a 
gate  in  the  wall  on  the  right  of  the  gar- 
dens, and  a  carriage-drive  running  up  to 
it,  gave  independent  egress  from  that  side 
of  the  Castle.  Breakfast  with  the  Count 
was  no  more  fruitful  of  information ;  the 
Count  discussed  (apropos  of  a  book  at 
which  he  had  been  glancing)  the  question 
of  the  Temporal  Power  of  the  Papacy 
with  learning  and  some  heat :  he  was,  it 
appeared,  strongly  opposed  to  these  ec- 
clesiastical claims,  and  spoke  of  them 
with  marked  bitterness.  Dieppe,  very 
little  interested,  escaped  for  a  walk  early 
in  the  afternoon.  It  was  five  o'clock 
when  he  regained  the  garden  and  stood 
for  a  few  moments  looking  down  towards 
the  river.  It  was  just  growing  dusk,  and 
the  lights  of  the  inn  were  visible  in  the 
village  across  the  valley. 
33 


Captain  Dieppe 

Fishermen  are  a  persevering  race ,  \he 
young  man  in  the  soft  hat  was  still  at  his 
post.  But  no,  he  was  not  fishing!  He 
was  walking  up  and  down  in  a  moody, 
purposeless  way,  and  it  seemed  to  the 
Captain  that  he  turned  his  head  very 
often  towards  the  Castle.  The  Captain 
sat  down  on  a  garden-seat  close  under 
the  barricade  and  watched ;  an  idea  was 
stirring  in  his  brain — an  idea  that  made 
him  pat  his  breast-pocket,  twirl  his  mous- 
tache, and  smile  contentedly.  "Not 
much  of  a  fisherman,  I  think,"  he  mur- 
mured. "  Ah,  my  friend,  I  know  the  cut 
of  your  jib,  I  fancy.  After  poor  old  Jean 
Dieppe,  are  n't  you,  my  boy?  A  police- 
spy  ;  I  could  tell  him  among  a  thousand ! " 

Equally  pleased  with  the  discovery  and 
with  his  own  acuteness  in  making  it,  the 
Captain  laughed  aloud;  then  in  an  in- 
stant he  sat  bolt  upright,  stiff  and  still, 
listening  intently.  For  through  the  bar- 
ricade had  come  two  sounds— a  sweet, 
low,  startled  voice,  that  cried  half  in  a 
whisper,  " Heavens,  he  's  there!"  and 
34 


The  Man  by  the  Stream 


then  the  rustle  of  skirts  in  hasty  flight. 
Without  an  instant's  thought — without 
remembering  his  promise  to  the  Count- 
Dieppe  sprang  up,  ran  down  the  hill, 
turned  the  corner  of  the  barricade,  and 
found  himself  in  the  Countess's  territory. 

He  was  too  late.  The  lady  had  made 
good  her  escape.  There  was  nobody  to 
be  seen  except  the  large  yellow  cat :  it  sat 
on  the  path  and  blinked  gravely  at  the 
chagrined  Captain. 

"  Animal,  you  annoy  me  !  "  he  said  with 
a  stamp  of  his  foot.  The  cat  rose,  turned, 
and  walked  away  with  its  tail  in  the  air. 
"  I  'm  making  a  fool  of  myself,"  muttered 
Dieppe.  "  Or,"  he  amended  with  a  dawn- 
ing smile,  "  she  's  making  a  fool  of  me." 
His  smile  broadened  a  little.  "Why 
not?"  he  asked.  Then  he  drew  himself 
up  and  slowly  returned  to  his  own  side 
of  the  barricade,  shaking  his  head  and 
murmuring,  "No,  no,  Jean,  my  boy,  no, 
no !  He  's  your  host— your  host,  Jean," 
as  he  again  seated  himself  on  the  bench 
under  the  barricade. 
35 


Captain  Dieppe 

Evening  was  now  falling  fast;  the 
fisherman  was  no  longer  to  be  seen ;  per- 
fect peace  reigned  over  the  landscape. 
Dieppe  yawned ;  perfect  peace  was  with 
him  a  synonym  for  intolerable  dulness. 

"  Permit  me,  my  dear  friend,"  said  a 
voice  behind  him,  "  to  read  you  a  little 
poem  which  I  have  beguiled  my  leisure 
by  composing." 

He  turned  to  find  the  Count  behind 
him,  holding  a  sheet  of  paper. 

Probably  the  poet  had  his  composition 
by  heart,  for  the  light  seemed  now  too 
dim  to  read  by.  However  this  may  be,  a 
rich  and  tender  voice  recited  to  Dieppe's 
sympathetic  ears  as  pretty  a  little  appeal 
(so  the  Captain  thought)  as  had  ever  been 
addressed  by  lover  to  an  obdurate  or  ca- 
pricious lady.  The  Captain's  eyes  filled 
with  tears  as  he  listened— tears  for  the 
charm  of  the  verse,  for  the  sad  beauty  of 
the  sentiment,  also,  alas,  for  the  unhappy 
gentleman  from  whose  heart  came  verse 
and  sentiment. 

"  My  friend,  you  love !  "  cried  the  Cap- 

36 


The  Man  by  the  Stream 


tain,  holding  out  his  hand  as  the  Count 
ended  his  poem  and  folded  up  the  paper. 

"And  you  are  unhappy,"  he  added. 

The  Count  smiled  in  a  sad  but  friendly 
fashion. 

"  Is  n't  it  the  same  thing  ? "  he  asked. 
"  And  at  any  rate  as  to  me  you  are  right." 

Dieppe  wrung  his  hand.  The  Count, 
apparently  much  moved,  turned  and 
walked  slowly  away,  leaving  Dieppe  to 
his  meditations. 

"He  loves  her."  That  was  the  form 
they  took.  Whatever  the  meaning  of  the 
quarrel,  the  Count  loved  his  wife ;  it  was 
to  her  the  poem  was  written,  hers  was 
the  heart  which  it  sought  to  soften.  Yet 
she  had  not  looked  hard-hearted.  No, 
she  had  looked  adorable,  frankly  ador- 
able; a  lady  for  whose  sake  any  man, 
even  so  wise  and  experienced  a  man  as 
Captain  Dieppe,  might  well  commit  many 
a  folly,  and  have  many  a  heartache;  a 
lady  for  whom— 

"  Rascal  that  I  am ! "  cried  the  Cap- 
tain, interrupting  himself  and  springing 
37 


Captain  Dieppe 

up.  He  raised  his  hand  in  the  air  and 
declared  aloud  with  emphasis :  "  On  my 
honour,  I  will  think  no  more  of  her.  I 
will  think,  I  say,  no  more  of  her." 

On  the  last  word  came  a  low  laugh 
from  the  other  side  of  the  barricade. 
The  Captain  started,  looked  round, 
listened,  smiled,  frowned,  pulled  his 
moustache.  Then,  with  extraordinary 
suddenness,  resolution,  and  fierceness, 
he  turned  and  walked  quickly  away. 
"  Honour,  honour ! "  he  was  saying  to 
himself ;  and  the  path  of  honour  seemed 
to  lie  in  flight.  Unhappily,  though,  the 
Captain  was  more  accustomed  to  ad- 
vance. 


CHAPTER  III 

THE  LADY  IN  THE  GARDEN 

It  is  possible  that  Captain  Dieppe,  full 
of  contentment  with  the  quarters  to 
which  fortune  had  guided  him,  under- 
rated the  merits  and  attractions  of  the 
inn  in  the  village  across  the  river.  Fare 
and  accommodation  indeed  were  plain 
and  rough  at  the  Aquila  Nera,  but  the 
company  round  its  fireside  would  have 
raised  his  interest.  On  one  side  of  the 
hearth  sat  the  young  fisherman,  he  in 
whom  Dieppe  had  discovered  a  police-spy 
on  the  track  of  the  secrets  in  that  breast- 
pocket of  the  Captain's.  Oh,  these  dis- 
coveries of  the  Captain's !  For  M.  Paul 
de  Roustache  was  not  a  police-spy,  and, 
moreover,  had  ne.ver  seen  the  gallant 
Captain  in  his  life,  and  took  no  interest 
in  him— a  state  of  things  most  unlikely 
39 


Captain  Dieppe 


to  occur  to  the  Captain's  mind.  Had 
Paul,  then,  fished  for  fishing's  sake  ?  It  by 
no  means  followed,  if  only  the  Captain 
could  have  remembered  that  there  were 
other  people  in  the  world  besides  himself 
—and  one  or  two  others  even  in  the 
Count  of  Fieramondi's  house.  "  I  ?11  get 
at  her  if  I  can ;  but  if  she  's  obstinate, 
I  '11  go  to  the  Count— in  the  last  resort 
I  '11  go  to  the  Count,  for  I  mean  to  have 
the  money."  Reflections  such  as  these 
(and  they  were  M.  de  Roustache's  at  this 
moment)  would  have  shown  even  Captain 
Dieppe— not,  perhaps,  that  he  had  done 
the  fisherman  an  injustice,  for  the  police 
may  be  very  respectable— but  at  least 
that  he  had  mistaken  his  errand  and  his 
character. 

But  however  much  it  might  be  abashed 
momentarily,  the  Captain's  acumen  would 
not  have  been  without  a  refuge.  Who 
was  the  elderly  man  with  stooping 
shoulders  and  small  keen  eyes,  who  sat 
on  the  other  side  of  the  fire,  and  had 
been  engaged  in  persuading  Paul  that 
40 


The  Lady  in  the  Garden 


he  too  was  a  fisherman,  that  he  too  loved 
beautiful  scenery,  that  he  too  travelled 
for  pleasure,  and,  finally,  that  his  true, 
rightful,  and  only  name  was  Monsieur 
Guillaume?  To  which  Paul  had  re- 
sponded in  kind,  save  that  he  had  not 
volunteered  his  name.  And  now  each 
was  wondering  what  the  other  wanted, 
and  each  was  wishing  very  much  that  the 
other  would  seek  his  bed,  so  that  the  inn 
might  be  sunk  in  quiet  and  a  gentleman 
be  at  liberty  to  go  about  his  private  busi- 
ness unobserved. 

The  landlord  came  in,  bringing  a  couple 
of  candles,  and  remarking  that  it  was 
hard  on  ten  o'clock ;  but  let  not  the  gen- 
tlemen hurry  themselves.  The  guests 
sat  a  little  while  longer,  exchanged  a  re- 
mark or  two  on  the  prospects  of  the 
weather,  and  then,  each  despairing  of 
outstaying  the  other,  went  their  respec- 
tive ways  to  bed. 

Almost  at  the  same  moment,  up  at  the 
Castle,  Dieppe  was  saying  to  his  host, 
"Good  night,  my  friend,  good  night. 
41 


Captain  Dieppe 

I  'm  not  for  bed  yet.  The  night  is  fine, 
and  I  '11  take  a  stroll  in  the  garden."  A 
keen  observer  might  have  noticed  that 
the  Captain  did  not  meet  his  friend's  eye 
as  he  spoke.  There  was  a  touch  of  guilt 
in  his  air,  which  the  Count's  abstraction 
did  not  allow  him  to  notice.  Conscience 
was  having  a  hard  battle  of  it ;  would  the 
Captain  keep  on  the  proper  side  of  the 
barricade  ? 

Monsieur  Guillaume,  owing  to  his  pro- 
fession or  his  temperament,  was  a  man 
who,  if  the  paradox  may  be  allowed,  was 
not  surprised  at  surprises.  Accordingly 
when  he  himself  emerged  from  the  bed- 
room to  which  he  had  retired,  took  the 
path  across  the  meadow  from  the  inn 
towards  the  river,  and  directed  his  course 
to  the  stepping-stones  which  he  had 
marked  as  he  strolled  about  before  din- 
ner, he  was  merely  interested  and  in  no 
way  astonished  to  perceive  his  companion 
of  the  fireside  in  front  of  him ;  the  moon, 
nearly  full,  revealed  Paul's  Tyrolean 
headpiece  mounting  the  hill  on  the  far 
42 


The  Lady  in  the  Garden 


side  of  the  stream.  Guillaume  followed 
it,  crossed  the  river  at  the  cost  of  wet 
boots,  ascended  the  slope,  and  crouched 
down  behind  a  bush  a  few  yards  from 
the  top.  He  had  gained  on  Paul,  and  ar- 
rived at  his  hiding-place  in  time  to  hear 
the  exclamation  wrung  from  his  precursor 
by  the  sudden  sight  of  the  barricade :  from 
the  valley  below  the  erection  had  been 
so  hidden  by  bushes  as  to  escape  notice. 

"  What  the  devil's  that  for  ? "  exclaimed 
Paul  de  Roustache  in  a  low  voice.  He 
was  not  left  without  an  answer.  The 
watcher  had  cause  for  the  smile  that 
spread  over  his  face,  as,  peeping  out,  he 
saw  a  man's  figure  rise  from  a  seat  and 
come  forward.  The  next  moment  Paul 
was  addressed  in  smooth  and  suave  tones, 
and  in  his  native  language,  which  he  had 
hurriedly  employed  in  his  surprised  ejac- 
ulation. 

"That,  sir,"  said  Dieppe,  waving  his 
hand  towards  the  barricade,  "is  erected 
in  order  to  prevent  intrusion.     But  it 
does  n't  seem  to  be  very  successful-" 
43 


Captain  Dieppe 

"Who  are  you?"  demanded  Paul,  an- 
grily- 

"I  should,  I  think,  be  the  one  to  ask 
that  question,"  Dieppe  answered  with  a 
smile.  "It  is  not,  I  believe,  your  gar- 
den?" His  emphasis  on  "your"  came 
very  near  to  an  assertion  of  proprietor- 
ship in  himself.  "  Pray,  sir,  to  what  am 
I  indebted  for  the  honour  of  this  meet- 
ing?" The  Captain  was  enjoying  this 
unexpected  encounter  with  his  supposed 
pursuer.  Apparently  the  pursuer  did  not 
know  him.  Very  well;  he  would  take 
advantage  of  that  bit  of  stupidity  on  the 
part  of  the  pursuer's  superior  officers. 
It  was  like  them  to  send  a  man  who 
did  n't  know  him !  "  You  wish  to  see 
some  one  in  the  house?"  he  asked,  look- 
ing at  Paul's  angry  and  puzzled  face. 

But  Paul  began  to  recover  his  cool- 
ness. 

"I  am  indeed  to  blame  for  my  intru- 
sion," he  said.  "  I  'm  passing  the  night 
at  the  inn,  and  tempted  by  the  mildness 
of  the  air—" 

44 


The  Lady  in  the  Garden 


"It  is  certainly  very  mild,"  agreed 
Dieppe. 

"I  strolled  across  the  stepping-stones 
and  up  the  hill.  I  admire  the  appearance 
of  a  river  by  night." 

"Certainly,  certainly.  But,  sir,  the 
river  does  not  run  in  this  garden." 

"Of  course  not,  M.  le  Comte,"  said 
Paul,  forcing  a  smile.  "At  least  I  pre- 
sume that  I  address—  ? " 

Dieppe  took  off  his  hat,  bowed,  and  re- 
placed it.  He  had,  however,  much  ado 
not  to  chuckle. 

"  But  I  was  led  on  by  the  sight  of  this 
remarkable  structure."  He  indicated  the 
barricade  again. 

"  There  was  nothing  else  you  wished  to 
see  ?  " 

"  On  my  honour,  nothing.  And  I  must 
offer  you  my  apologies." 

"  As  for  the  structure—"  added  Dieppe, 
shrugging  his  shoulders. 

"Yes?"  cried  Paul,  with  renewed  in- 
terest. 

"Its  purpose  is  to  divide  the  garden 
45 


Captain  Dieppe 

into  two  portions.  No  more  and  no  less, 
I  assure  you." 

Paul's  face  took  on  an  ugly  expression. 

"  I  am  at  such  a  disadvantage,"  he  ob- 
served, "  that  I  cannot  complain  of  M.  le 
Comte's  making  me  the  subject  of  pleas- 
antry. Under  other  circumstances  I 
might  raise  different  emotions  in  him. 
Perhaps  I  shall  have  my  opportunity." 

"  When  you  find  me,  sir,  prowling 
about  other  people's  gardens  by  night—" 

"  Prowling !  "  interrupted  Paul,  fiercely. 

"  Well,  then,"  said  Dieppe,  with  an  air 
of  courteous  apology,  "  shall  we  say 
skulking  ?  " 

"  You  shall  pay  for  that ! " 

"With  pleasure,  if  you  convince  me 
that  it  is  a  gentleman  who  asks  satisfac- 
tion." 

Paul  de  Koustache  smiled.  "At  my 
convenience,"  he  said,  "  I  will  give  you  a 
reference  which  shall  satisfy  you  most 
abundantly."  He  drew  back,  lifted  his 
hat,  and  bowed. 

"I  shall  await  it  with  interest,"  said 
46 


The  Lady  in  the  Garden 


Dieppe,  returning  tlie  salutation,  and 
then  folding  his  arms  and  watching 
Paul's  retreat  down  the  hill.  "  The  fel- 
low brazened  it  out  well/'  he  reflected ; 
"  but  I  shall  hear  no  more  of  him,  I  fancy. 
After  all,  police-agents  don't  fight  duels 
with — why,  with  Counts,  you  know !  " 
And  his  laugh  rang  out  in  hearty  enjoy- 
ment through  the  night  air.  "  Ha,  ha- 
lt 's  not  so  easy  to  put  salt  on  old  Dieppe's 
tail ! "  With  a  sigh  of  satisfaction  he 
turned  round,  as  though  to  go  back  to 
the  house.  But  his  eye  was  caught  by  a 
light  in  the  window  next  to  his  own ;  and 
the  window  was  open.  The  Captain 
stood  and  looked  up,  and  Monsieur  Guil- 
laume,  who  had  overheard  his  little  solil- 
oquy and  discovered  from  it  a  fact  of 
great  interest  to  himself,  seized  the  op- 
portunity of  rising  from  behind  bis  bush 
and  stealing  off  down  the  hill  after  Paul 
de  Roustache. 

"  Ah,"  thought  the  Captain,  as  he  gazed 
at  the  window,  "if  there  were  no  such  thing 
as  honour  or  loyalty,  as  friendship—" 
47 


Captain  Dieppe 

"  Sir,"  said  a  timid  voice  at  his  elbow. 

Dieppe  shot  round,  and  then  and  there 
lost  his  heart.  One  sight  of  her  a  man 
might  endure  and  be  heart-whole,  not 
two.  There,  looking  up  at  him  with  the 
most  bewitching  mouth,  the  most  destruc- 
tive eyes,  was  the  lady  whom  he  had  seen 
at  the  end  of  the  passage.  Certainly  she 
was  the  most  irresistible  creature  he  had 
ever  met ;  so  he  declared  to  himself,  not, 
indeed,  for  the  first  time  in  his  life,  but 
none  the  less  with  unimpeachable  sincer- 
ity. For  a  man  could  do  nothing  but 
look  at  her,  and  the  man  who  looked  at 
her  had  to  smile  at  her;  then  if  she 
smiled,  the  man  had  to  laugh ;  and  what 
happened  afterwards  would  depend  on  the 
inclinations  of  the  lady :  at  least  it  would 
not  be  very  safe  to  rely  on  the  principles 
of  the  gentleman. 

But  now  she  was  not 'laughing.  Gen- 
uine and  deep  distress  was  visible  on  her 
face. 

"Madame  la  Comtesse— "  stammered 
the  dazzled  Captain. 
48 


The  Lady  in  the  Garden 


For  an  instant  she  looked  at  him, 
seeming,  he  thought,  to  ask  if  she  could 
trust  him.  Then  she  said  impatiently: 
"  Yes,  yes ;  but  never  mind  that.  Who 
are  you?  Oh,  why  did  you  tell  him  you 
were  the  Count?  Oh,  you  've  ruined 
everything ! " 

"Ruined-?" 

"  Yes,  yes ;  because  now  he  '11  write  to 
the  Count.  Oh,  I  heard  your  quarrel.  I 
listened  from  the  window.  Oh,  I  did  n't 
think  anybody  could  be  as  stupid  as  you ! " 

"  Madame !  "  pleaded  the  unhappy  Cap- 
tain. "I  thought  the  fellow  was  a  police- 
agent  on  my  track,  and — " 

"On  your  track?    Oh,  who  are  you?" 

"My  name  is  Dieppe,  madame— Cap- 
tain Dieppe,  at  your  service."  It  was 
small  wonder  that  a  little  stiffness  had 
crept  into  the  Captain's  tones.  This  was 
not,  so  far,  just  the  sort  of  interview 
which  had  filled  his  dreams.  For  the  first 
time  the  glimmer  of  a  smile  appeared  on 
the  lady's  lips,  the  ghost  of  a  sparkle  in 
her  eyes. 

49 


Captain  Dieppe 

"  What  a  funny  name  !  "  she  observed 
reflectively. 

"  I  fail  to  see  the  drollery  of  it." 

"  Oh,  don't  be  silly  and  starchy. 
You  've  got  us  into  terrible  trouble." 

"Tout* 

"  Yes ;  all  of  us.  Because  now—"  She 
broke  off  abruptly.  "  How  do  you  come 
to  be  here?"  she  asked  in  a  rather  im- 
perious tone. 

Dieppe  gave  a  brief  account  of  himself, 
concluding  with  the  hope  that  his  pres- 
ence did  not  annoy  the  Countess.  The 
lady  shook  her  head  and  glanced  at  him 
with  a  curious  air  of  inquiry  or  examina- 
tion. In  spite  of  the  severity,  or  even 
rudeness,  of  her  reproaches,  Dieppe  fell 
more  and  more  in  love  with  her  every 
moment.  At  last  he  could  not  resist 
a  sly  reference  to  their  previous  en- 
counter. She  raised  innocent  eyes  to 
his. 

"  I  saw  the  door  was  open,  but  I  did  n't 
notice  anybody  there,"  she  said  with  irre- 
proachable demureness. 
50 


The  Lady  in  the  Garden 


The  Captain  looked  at  her  for  a  mo- 
ment, then  he  began  to  laugh. 

"  I  myself  saw  nothing  but  a  cat,"  said 
he. 

The  lady  began  to  laugh. 

"You  must  let  me  atone  for  my  stu 
pidity,"  cried  Dieppe,  catching  her  hand. 

"  I  wonder  if  you  could !  " 

"I  will,  or  die  in  the  attempt.  Tell 
me  how !  "  And  the  Captain  kissed  the 
hand  that  he  had  captured. 

"  There  are  conditions." 

"Not  too  hard?" 

"First,  you  must  n't  breathe  a  word 
to  the  Count  of  having  seen  me  or— or 
anybody  else." 

"  I  should  n't  have  done  that,  anyhow," 
remarked  Dieppe,  with  a  sudden  twinge 
of  conscience. 

"  Secondly,  you  must  never  try  to  see 
me,  except  when  I  give  you  leave." 

"  I  won't  try,  I  will  only  long,"  said  the 
Captain. 

"  Thirdly,  you  must  ask  no  questions." 

"It  is  too  soon  to  ask  the  only  one 
51 


Captain  Dieppe 

which  I  would  n't  pledge  myself  at  your 
bidding  never  to  ask." 

"  To  whom,"  inquired  the  lady,  "  do  you 
conceive  yourself  to  be  speaking,  Captain 
Dieppe?"  But  the  look  that  accompa- 
nied the  rebuke  was  not  very  severe. 

"Tell  me  what  I  must  do,"  implored 
the  Captain. 

She  looked  at  him  very  kindly,  partly 
because  he  was  a  handsome  fellow,  partly 
because  it  was  her  way;  and  she  said 
with  the  prettiest,  simplest  air,  as  though 
she  were  making  the  most  ordinary  re- 
quest and  never  thought  of  a  refusal : 

"Will  you  give  me  fifty  thousand 
francs  ? " 

"  I  would  give  you  a  million  thousand 
—but  I  have  only  fifty." 

"  It  would  be  your  all,  then !  Oh,  I 
should  n't  like  to—" 

"You  misunderstand  me,  madame.  I 
have  fifty  francs,  not  fifty  thousand." 

"  Oh !  "  said  she,  frowning.  Then  she 
laughed  a  little ;  then,  to  Dieppe's  inde- 
scribable agony,  her  eyes  filled  with  tears 
52 


The  Lady  in  the  Garden 


and  her  lips  quivered.     She  put  her  hand, 
up  to  her  eyes ;  Dieppe  heard  a  sob. 

"  For  God's  sake—"  he  whispered. 

"  Oh,  I  can't  help  it,"  she  said,  and  she 
sobbed  again ;  but  now  she  did  not  try  to 
hide  her  face.  She  looked  up  in  the  Cap- 
tain's, conquering  her  sobs,  but  unable  to 
restrain  her  tears.  "It  's  not  my  fault, 
and  it  is  so  hard  on  me,"  she  wailed. 
Then  she  suddenly  jumped  back,  crying, 
"  Oh,  what  were  you  going  to  do  ? "  and 
regarding  the  Captain  with  reproachful 
alarm. 

"  I  don't  know,"  said  Dieppe  in  some 
confusion,  as  he  straightened  himself 
again.  "  I  could  n't  help  it ;  you  aroused 
my  sympathy,"  he  explained— for  what 
the  explanation  might  be  worth. 

"You  won't  be  able  to  help  me,"  she 
murmured,  "unless— unless— " 

"What?" 

"Well,  unless  you  're  able  to  help  it, 
you  know." 

"I  will  think,"  promised  Dieppe,  "of 
my  friend  the  Count." 
53 


Captain  Dieppe 

"  Of  the—  ?  Oh  yes,  of  course." 
There  never  was  such  a  face  for  changes 
—she  was  smiling  now.  "Yes,  think  of 
your  friend  the  Count ;  that  will  be  cap- 
ital. Oh,  but  we  're  wasting  time ! " 

"  On  the  contrary,  madame,"  the  Cap- 
tain assured  her  with  overwhelming  sin- 
cerity. 

"Yes,  we  are.  And  we  're  not  safe 
here.  Suppose  the  Count  saw  us !  " 

"Why,  yes,  that  would  be—" 

"  That  would  be  fatal,"  said  she  deci- 
sively, and  the  Captain  did  not  feel  him- 
self in  a  position  to  contradict  her.  He 
contented  himself  with  taking  her  hand 
again  and  pressing  it  softly.  Certainly 
she  made  a  man  feel  very  sympathetic. 

"  But  I  must  see  you  again—" 

"  Indeed  I  trust  so,  madame." 

"  On  business." 

"  Call  it  what  you  will,  so  that—" 

"  Not  here.     Do  you  know  the  village  ? 

No?    Well,  listen.     If  you  go  through 

the  village,  past  the  inn  and  up  the  hill, 

you  will  come  to  a  Cross  by  the  roadside 

54 


The  Lady  in  the  Garden 


Strike  off  from  that  across  the  grass, 
again  uphill.  When  you  reach  the  top 
you  will  find  a  hollow,  and  in  it  a  shep- 
herd's hut— deserted.  Meet  me  there  at 
dusk  to-morrow,  about  six,  and  I  will  tell 
you  how  to  help  me." 

"I  will  be  there,"  said  the  Captain. 

The  lady  held  out  both  her  hands- 
small,  white,  ungloved,  and  unringed. 
The  Captain's  eyes  rested  a  moment  on 
the  finger  that  should  have  worn  the 
golden  band  which  united  her  to  his 
friend  the  Count.  It  was  not  there ;  she 
had  sent  it  back — with  the  marriage  con- 
tract. With  a  sigh,  strangely  blended  of 
pain  and  pleasure,  he  bent  and  kissed 
her  hands.  She  drew  them  away  quickly, 
gave  a  nervous  little  laugh,  and  ran  off. 
The  Captain  watched  her  till  she  disap- 
peared round  the  corner  of  the  barricade, 
and  then  with  another  deep  sigh  betook 
himself  to  his  own  quarters. 

The  cat  did  not  mew  in  the  passage  that 
night.     None  the  less  Captain  Dieppe's 
slumbers  were  broken  and  disturbed. 
55 


CHAPTER  IV 

THE  INN  IN  THE  VILLAGE 

While  confessing  that  her  want  of  in- 
sight into  Paul  de  Roustache's  true  char- 
acter was  inconceivably  stupid,  the 
Countess  of  Fieramondi  maintained  that 
her  other  mistakes  (that  was  the  word 
she  chose— indiscretions  she  rejected  as 
too  severe)  were  extremely  venial,  and 
indeed,  under  all  the  circumstances,  quite 
natural.  It  was  true  that  she  had  prom- 
ised to  hold  no  communication  with  Paul 
after  that  affair  of  the  Baroness  von 
Englebaden's  diamond  necklace,  in  which 
his  part  was  certainly  peculiar,  though 
hardly  so  damnatory  as  Andrea  chose  to 
assume.  It  was  true  that,  when  one  is 
supposed  to  be  at  Mentone  for  one's 
health  one  should  not  leave  one's  courier 


The  Inn  in  the  Village 


there  (in  order  to  receive  letters)  and 
reside  instead  with  one's  maid  at  Monte 
Carlo ;  true,  further,  that  it  is  unwise  to 
gamble  heavily,  to  lose  largely,  to  confide 
the  misfortune  to  a  man  of  Paul's  equiv- 
ocal position  and  reputation,  to  borrow 
twenty  thousand  francs  of  him,  to  lose  or 
spend  all,  save  what  served  to  return 
home  with,  and  finally  to  acknowledge 
the  transaction  and  the  obligation  both 
very  cordially  by  word  of  mouth  and 
(much  worse)  in  letters  which  were— 
well,  rather  effusively  grateful.  There 
was  nothing  absolutely  criminal  in  all 
this,  unless  the  broken  promise  must  be 
stigmatised  as  such ;  and  of  that  Andrea 
had  heard :  he  was  aware  that  she  had 
renewed  acquaintance  with  M.  de  Rous- 
tache.  The  rest  of  the  circumstances 
were  so  fatal  in  that  they  made  it  impos- 
sible for  her  to  atone  for  this  first  lapse. 
In  fine,  Count  Andrea,  not  content  now 
to  rely  on  her  dishonoured  honour,  but 
willing  to  trust  to  her  strong  religious 
feelings,  had  demanded  of  her  an  oath 
57 


Captain  Dieppe 


that  she  would  hold  no  further  communi- 
cation of  any  sort,  kind,  or  nature  with 
Paul  de  Roustache.  The  oath  was  a  ter- 
rible oath— to  be  sworn  on  a  relic  which 
had  belonged  to  the  Cardinal  and  was 
most  sacred  in  the  eyes  of  the  Fieramondi. 
And  with  Paul  in  possession  of  those  let- 
ters and  not  in  possession  of  his  twenty 
thousand  francs,  the  Countess  felt  herself 
hardly  a  free  agent.  For  if  she  did  not 
communicate  with  Paul,  to  a  certainty 
Paul  would  communicate  with  Andrea. 
If  that  happened  she  would  die ;  while  if 
she  broke  the  oath  she  would  never  dare 
to  die.  In  this  dilemma  the  Countess 
could  do  nothing  but  declare— first,  that 
she  had  met  Paul  accidentally  (which  so 
far  as  the  first  meeting  went  was  true 
enough),  secondly,  that  she  would  not 
live  with  a  man  who  did  not  trust  her; 
and,  thirdly,  that  to  ask  an  oath  of  her 
was  a  cruel  and  wicked  mockery  from  a 
man  whose  views  on  the  question  of  the 
Temporal  Power  proclaimed  him  to  be 
little,  if  at  all,  better  than  an  infidel 
58 


The  Inn  in  the  Village 


The  Count  was  very  icy  and  very  polite. 
The  Countess  withdrew  to  the  right  wing ; 
receiving  the  Count's  assurance  that  the 
erection  of  the  barricade  would  not  be 
disagreeable  to  him,  she  had  it  built— 
and  sat  down  behind  it  (so  to  speak) 
awaiting  in  sorrow,  dread,  and  loneliness 
the  terrible  moment  of  Paul  de  Rous- 
tache's  summons.  And  (to  make  one 
more  confession  on  her  behalf)  her  secret 
and  real  reason  for  ordering  that  nightly 
illumination,  which  annoyed  the  Count 
so  sorely,  lay  in  the  hope  of  making  the 
same  gentleman  think,  when  he  did  ar- 
rive, that  she  entertained  a  houseful  of 
guests,  and  was  therefore  well  protected 
by  her  friends.  Otherwise  he  would  try 
to  force  an  interview  under  cover  of 
night. 

These  briefly  indicated  facts  of  the  case, 
so  appalling  to  the  unhappy  Countess, 
were  on  the  other  hand  eminently  satis- 
factory to  M.  Paul  de  Roustache.  To  be 
plain,  they  meant  money,  either  from  the 
Countess  or  from  the  Count.  To  Paul's 
59 


Captain  Dieppe 

mind  they  seemed  to  mean— well,  say, 
fifty  thousand  francs — that  twenty  of  his 
returned,  and  thirty  as  a  solatium  for  the 
trifling  with  his  affections  of  which  he 
proposed  to  maintain  that  the  Countess 
had  been  guilty.  The  Baroness  von 
Englebaden's  diamonds  had  gone  the  way 
and  served  the  purposes  to  which  family 
diamonds  seem  at  some  time  or  other  to 
be  predestined :  and  Paul  was  very  hard 
up.  The  Countess  must  be  very  fright- 
ened, the  Count  was  very  proud.  The 
situation  was  certainly  worth  fifty  thou- 
sand francs  to  Paul  de  Roustache.  Sit- 
ting outside  the  inn,  smoking  his  cigar, 
on  the  morning  after  his  encounter  in  the 
garden,  he  thought  over  all  this ;  and  he 
was  glad  that  he  had  not  let  his  anger  at 
the  Count's  insolence  run  away  with  his 
discretion  ;  the  insolence  would  make  his 
revenge  all  the  sweeter  when  he  put  his 
hand,  either  directly  or  indirectly,  into 
the  Count's  pocket  and  exacted  compen- 
sation to  the  tune  of  fifty  thousand 
francs. 

60 


The  Inn  in  the  Village 


Buried  in  these  thoughts— in  the  course 
of  which  it  is  interesting  to  observe  that 
he  did  not  realise  his  own  iniquity— he 
failed  to  notice  that  Monsieur  Guillaume 
had  sat  down  beside  him  and,  like  him- 
self, was  gazing  across  the  valley  towards 
the  Castle.  He  started  to  find  the  old 
fellow  at  his  elbow ;  he  started  still  more 
when  he  was  addressed  by  his  name. 
"You  know  my  name?"  he  exclaimed, 
with  more  perturbation  than  a  stranger's 
knowledge  of  that  fact  about  him  should 
excite  in  an  honest  man. 

"  It 's  my  business  to  know  people." 

"  I  don't  know  you." 

"  That  also  is  my  business,"  smiled  M. 
Guillaume.  "But  in  this  case  we  will 
not  be  too  business-like.  I  will  waive  my 
advantage,  M.  de  Roustache." 

"  You  called  yourself  Guillaume,"  said 
Paul  with  a  suspicious  glance. 

"  I  was  inviting  you  to  intimacy.  My 
name  is  Guillaume— Guillaume  Sevier,  at 
your  service." 

''Sevier?    The-?" 
61 


Captain  Dieppe 

"  Precisely.  Don't  be  uneasy.  My 
business  is  not  with  you."  He  touched 
his  arm.  "Your  reasons  for  a  midnight 
walk  are  nothing  to  me ;  young  men  take 
these  fancies,  and— well,  the  innkeeper 
says  the  Countess  is  handsome.  But  I 
am  bound  to  admit  that  his  description 
of  the  Count  by  no  means  tallies  with  the 
appearance  of  the  gentleman  who  talked 
with  you  last  night." 

"Who  talked  with  me!  You 
were —  ?" 

"  I  was  there— behind  a  bush  a  little 
way  down  the  hill." 

"  Upon  my  word,  sir — " 

"  Oh,  I  had  my  business  too.  But  for 
the  moment  listen  to  something  that  con- 
cerns you.  The  Count  is  not  yet  thirty, 
his  eyes  are  large  and  dreamy,  his  hair 
long,  he  wears  no  moustache,  his  manner 
is  melancholy,  there  is  no  air  of  bravado 
about  him.  Do  I  occasion  you  sur- 
prise ? " 

Paul  de  Roustache  swore  heartily. 

"Then,"  he  ended,  "all  I  can  say  is 
62 


The  Inn  in  the  Village 


that  I  should  like  ten  minutes  alone  with 
the  fellow  who  made  a  fool  of  me  last 
night,  whoever  he  is." 

Again  Guillaume— as  he  wished  to  be 
called — touched  his  companion's  arm. 

"  I  too  have  a  matter  to  discuss  with 
that  gentleman,"  he  said.  Paul  looked 
surprised.  "M.  de  Roustache,"  Guil- 
laume continued  with  an  insinuating 
smile,  "  is  not  ignorant  of  recent  events ; 
he  moves  in  the  world  of  affairs.  I  think 
we  might  help  one  another.  And  there 
is  no  harm  in  being  popular  with  the— 
with— er— my  department,  instead  of  be- 
ing— well,  rather  unpopular,  eh,  my  dear 
M.  de  Roustache?" 

Paul  did  not  contest  this  insinuation 
nor  show  any  indignation  at  it ;  the  wink 
which  accompanied  it  he  had  the  self-re- 
spect to  ignore. 

"What  do  you  want  from  him?"  he 
asked,  discerning  Guillaume's  point,  and 
making  straight  for  it. 

"  Merely  some  papers  he  has." 

"What  do  you  want  the  papers  for?" 
63 


Captain  Dieppe 

"  To  enable  us  to  know  whom  we  ought 
to  watch." 

"  Is  the  affair  political  or—  ? " 

"Oh,  political— not  in  your  line." 
Paul  frowned.  "  Forgive  my  little  joke," 
apologised  M.  Guillaume. 

"And  he's  got  them?" 

"  Oh,  yes —at  least,  we  have  very  little 
doubt  of  it." 

"  Perhaps  he  's  destroyed  them." 

Guillaume  laughed  softly.  "Ah,  my 
dear  sir,"  said  he,  "  he  would  n't  do  that. 
While  he  keeps  them  he  is  safe,  he  is  im- 
portant, he  might  become— well,  richer 
than  he  is." 

Paul  shot  a  quick  glance  at  his  com- 
panion. 

"  How  do  you  mean  to  get  the  papers  ? " 

"  I  'm  instructed  to  buy.  But  if  he  's 
honest,  he  won't  sell.  Still  I  must  have 
them." 

"  Tell  me  his  name." 

"Oh,  by  all  means— Captain  Dieppe." 

"Ah,  I  've  heard  of  him.     He  was  in 
Brazil,  was  n't  he  ? " 
64 


The  Inn  in  the  Village 


"  Yes,  and  in  Bulgaria." 

"  Spain  too,  I  fancy  ? " 

"  Dear  me,  I  was  n't  aware  of  that,"  said 
Guillaurne,  with  some  vexation.  "But 
it 's  neither  here  nor  there.  Can  I  count 
on  your  assistance  ?  " 

"  But  what  the  devil  does  he  pretend 
to  be  the  Count  for  ? " 

"  Forgive  the  supposition,  but  perhaps 
he  imagined  that  your  business  was  what 
mine  is.  Then  he  would  like  to  throw  you 
off  the  scent  by  concealing  his  identity." 

"  By  heaven,  and  I  nearly—  ! " 

"Nearly  did  what,  dear  M.  de  Rous- 
tache?"  said  old  Guillaume  very  softly. 
"  Nearly  dragged  in  the  name  of  Madame 
la  Comtesse,  were  you  going  to  say  f " 

"  How  do  you  know  anything—  ? " 
began  Paul. 

"A  guess— on  my  honour  a  guess; 
You  affect  the  ladies,  eh  ?  Oh,  we  're  not 
such  strangers  as  you  think."  He  spoke 
in  a  more  imperious  tone :  it  was  almost 
threatening.  "I  think  you  must  help 
me,  Monsieur  Paul,"  said  he. 
65 


Captain  Dieppe 

His  familiarity,  which  was  certainly  no 
accident,  pointed  more  precisely  the 
vague  menace  of  his  demand. 

But  Paul  was  not  too  easily  fright- 
ened. 

"  All  right,"  said  he,  "  but  I  must  get 
something  out  of  it,  you  know." 

"On  the  day  I  get  the  papers— by 
whatever  means— you  shall  receive  ten 
thousand  francs.  And  I  will  not  inter- 
fere with  your  business.  Come,  my  pro- 
posal is  handsome,  you  must  allow." 

"Well,  tell  me  what  to  do." 

"You  shall  write  a  note,  addressed  to 
the  Count,  telling  him  you  must  see  him 
on  a  matter  which  deeply  touches  his  in- 
terest and  his  honour." 

"How  much  do  you  know?"  Paul 
broke  in  suspiciously. 

"  I  knew  nothing  till  last  night ;  now  I 
am  beginning  to  know.  But  listen.  The 
innkeeper  is  my  friend ;  he  will  manage 
that  this  note  shall  be  delivered— not  to 
the  Count,  but  to  Dieppe ;  if  any  question 
arises,  he  '11  say  you  described  the  gentle- 


The  Inn  in  the  Village 


man  beyond  mistake,  and  in  the  note  you 
will  refer  to  last  night's  interview.  He 
won't  suspect  that  I  have  undeceived  you. 
Well  then,  in  the  note  you  will  make  a 
rendezvous  with  him.  He  will  come, 
either  for  fun  or  because  he  thinks  he 
can  serve  his  friend— the  Count  or  the 
Countess,  whichever  it  may  be.  If  I 
don't  offend  your  susceptibilities,  I  should 
say  it  was  the  Countess.  Oh,  I  am  judg- 
ing only  by  general  probability." 

"  Supposing  he  comes— what  then  ?  " 

"  Why,  when  he  comes,  I  shall  be  there 
—visible.  And  you  will  be  there  invisi- 
ble— unless  cause  arises  for  you  also  to 
become  visible.  But  the  details  can  be 
settled  later.  Come,  will  you  write  the 
letter?" 

Paul  de  Boustache  thought  a  moment, 
nodded,  rose,  and  was  about  to  follow 
Guillaume  into  the  inn.  But  he  stopped 
again  and  laid  a  hand  on  his  new  friend's 
shoulder. 

"If  your  innkeeper  is  so  intelligent 
and  so  faithful—" 

67 


Captain  Dieppe 

"The  first  comes  from  heaven," 
shrugged  Guillaume.  "  The  second  is,  all 
the  world  over,  a  matter  of  money,  my 
friend." 

"  Of  course.  Well  then,  he  might  take 
another  note." 

"To  the  other  Count?" 

"  Why,  no." 

"Not  yet,  eh?" 

Paul  forced  a  rather  wry  smile.  "  You 
have  experience,  Monsieur  Guillaume," 
he  confessed. 

"  To  the  Countess,  is  n't  it  ?  I  see  no 
harm  in  that.  I  ask  you  to  help  in  my 
business ;  I  observe  my  promise  not  to 
interfere  with  yours.  He  is  intelligent; 
we  will  make  him  faithful :  he  shall  take 
two  notes  by  all  means,  my  friend." 

With  the  advice  and  assistance  of  Guil- 
laume the  two  notes  were  soon  written : 
the  first  was  couched  much  in  the  terms 
suggested  by  that  ingenious  old  schemer, 
the  second  was  more  characteristic  of 
Paul  himself  and  of  the  trade  which  Paul 
had  joined.  "It  would  grieve  me  pro- 
68 


The  Inn  in  the  Village 


foundly,"  the  precious  missive  ran,  "to 
do  anything  to  distress  you.  But  I  have 
suffered  very  seriously,  and  not  in  my 
purse  only.  Unless  you  will  act  fairly 
by  me,  I  must  act  for  myself.  If  I  do 
not  receive  fifty  thousand  francs  in 
twenty-four  hours,  I  turn  to  the  only 
other  quarter  open  to  me.  I  am  to  be 
found  at  the  inn.  There  is  no  need  of  a 
signature;  you  will  remember  your — 
Friend." 

Guillaume  put  on  his  spectacles  and 
read  it  through  twice. 

"  Excellent,  Monsieur  Paul !  "  said  he. 

"  It  is  easy  to  detect  a  practised  hand." 
And  when  Paul  swore  at  him,  he  laughed 
the  more,  finding  much  entertainment  in 
mocking  the  rascal  whom  he  used. 

Yet  in  this  conduct  there  was  a  rash- 
ness little  befitting  Guiilaume's  age  and 
Guillaume's  profession.  Paul  was  not  a 
safe  man  to  laugh  at.  If  from  time  to 
time,  in  the  way  of  business,  he  was 
obliged  to  throw  a  light  brighter  than  he 
would  have  preferred  on  his  own  char- 


Captain  Dieppe 

acter,  he  did  not  therefore  choose  to  be 
made  the  subject  of  raillery.  And  if  it 
was  not  safe  to  mock  him,  neither  was  it 
very  safe  to  talk  of  money  to  him.  The 
thought  of  money— of  thousands  of 
francs,  easily  convertible  into  pounds, 
marks,  dollars,  florins,  or  whatever 
chanced  to  be  the  denomination  of  the 
country  to  which  free  and  golden- winged 
steps  might  lead  him— had  a  very  inflam- 
ing effect  on  M.  Paul  de  Roustache's  im- 
agination. The  Baron  von  Englebaden 
had  started  the  whole  of  that  troublesome 
affair  by  boasting  of  the  number  of  thou- 
sands of  marks  which  had  gone  to  the 
making  of  the  Baroness's  necklace.  And 
now  M.  Guillaume— rash  M.  Guillaume— 
talked  of  bribing  Captain  Dieppe.  Brib- 
ery means  money ;  if  the  object  is  impor- 
tant it  means  a  large  amount  of  money : 
and  presumably  the  object  is  important 
and  the  scale  of  expenditure  correspond- 
ingly liberal,  when  such  a  comfortable 
little  douceur  as  ten  thousand  francs  is 
readily  promised  as  the  reward  of  inci- 
70 


The  Inn  in  the  Village 


dental  assistance.  Following  this  train 
of  thought,  Paul's  mind  fixed  itself  with 
some  persistency  on  two  points.  The 
first  was  modest,  reasonable,  definite ;  he 
would  see  the  colour  of  Guillaume's 
money  before  the  affair  went  further ;  he 
would  have  his  ten  thousand  francs,  or 
at  least  a  half  of  them,  before  he  lent  any 
further  aid  by  word  or  deed.  But  the 
second  idea  was  larger;  it  was  also 
vaguer,  and,  although  it  hardly  seemed 
less  reasonable  or  natural  to  the  brain 
which  conceived  it,  it  could  scarcely  be 
said  to  be  as  justifiable ;  at  any  rate  it  did 
not  admit  of  being  avowed  as  frankly  to 
Guillaume.  himself.  In  fact  Paul  was 
wondering  how  much  money  Guillaume 
proposed  to  pay  for  Captain  Dieppe's 
honour  (in  case  that  article  proved  to  be 
in  the  market),  and,  further,  where  and 
in  what  material  form  that  money  was. 
Would  it  be  gold  ?  Why,  hardly ;  when 
it  comes  to  thousands  of  anything,  the 
coins  are  not  handy  to  carry  about. 
Would  it  be  a  draft  ?  That  is  a  safe  mode 
71 


Captain  Dieppe 

of  conveying  large  sums,  but  it  has  its 
disadvantages  in  affairs  where  secrecy  is 
desired  and  ready  money  indispensable. 
Would  it  be  notes?  There  were  risks 
here— but  also  conveniences.  And  Guil- 
laume  seemed  bold  as  well  as  wary. 
Moreover  Guillaume's  coat  was  remark- 
ably shabby,  his  air  very  unassuming, 
and  his  manner  of  life  at  the  hotel  fru- 
gality itself ;  such  a  playing  of  the  vacuus 
viator  might  be  meant  to  deceive  not  only 
the  landlord  of  the  Aquila  Nera,  but  also 
any  other  predatory  persons  whom  Guil- 
laume  should  encounter  in  the  course  of 
his  travels.  Yes,  some  of  it  would  be  in 
notes.  Paul  de  Roustache  bade  the  ser- 
ving-maid bring  him  a  bottle  of  wine,  and 
passed  an  hour  in  consuming  it  very 
thoughtfully. 

Guillaume  returned  from  his  conversa- 
tion with  the  innkeeper  just  as  the  last 
glass  was  poured  out.  To  Paul's  annoy- 
ance he  snatched  it  up  and  drained  it— 
an  act  of  familiarity  that  reached  inso- 
lence. 

72 


The  Inn  in  the  Village 


"  To  the  success  of  our  enterprise ! " 
said  he,  grinning  at  his  discomfited  com- 
panion. "All  goes  well.  The  innkeeper 
knows  the  Countess's  maid,  and  the  note 
will  reach  the  Countess  by  midday;  I 
have  described  Dieppe  to  him  most  ac- 
curately, and  he  will  hang  about  till  he 
gets  a  chance  of  delivering  the  second 
note  to  him,  or  seeing  it  delivered." 

"  And  what  are  we  to  do  ? "  asked  Paul, 
still  sour  and  still  thoughtful. 

"As  regards  the  Countess,  nothing. 
If  the  money  comes,  good  for  you.  If 
not,  I  presume  you  will,  at  your  own 
time,  open  communications  with  the 
Count?" 

"  It  is  possible,"  Paul  admitted. 

"Very,"  said  M.  Guillaume  dryly. 
"And  as  regards  Dieppe  our  course  is 
very  plain.  I  am  at  the  rendezvous, 
waiting  for  him,  by  half-past  six.  You 
will  also  be  at,  or  near,  the  rendezvous. 
We  will  settle  more  particularly  how  it 
is  best  to  conduct  matters  when  we  see 
the  lie  of  the  ground.  No  general  can 
73 


Captain  Dieppe 

arrange  his  tactics  without  inspecting  the 
battlefield,  eh?  And  moreover  we  can't 
tell  what  the  enemy's  dispositions— or 
disposition — may  turn  out  to  be." 

"And  meanwhile  there  is  nothing  to 
do?" 

"Nothing?  On  the  contrary— break 
fast,  a  smoke,  and  a  nap,"  corrected  Guil- 
laume  in  a  contented  tone.  "Then,  my 
friend,  we  shall  be  ready  for  anything 
that  may  occur— for  anything  in  the 
world  we  shall  be  ready." 

"I  wonder  if  you  will,"  thought  Paul 
de  Roustache,  resentfully  eyeing  the  glass 
which  M.  Guillaume  had  emptied. 

It  remains  to  add  only  that,  on  the  ad- 
vice and  information  of  the  innkeeper, 
the  Cross  on  the  roadside  up  the  hill  be- 
hind the  village  had  been  suggested  as 
the  rendezvous,  and  that  seven  in  the 
evening  had  seemed  a  convenient  hour  to 
propose  for  the  meeting.  For  Guillaume 
had  no  reason  to  suppose  that  a  prior 
engagement  would  take  the  Captain  to 
the  same  neighbourhood  at  six. 
74 


CHAPTER  V 

THE  RENDEZVOUS  BY  THE  CROSS 

Beneath  the  reserved  and  somewhat 
melancholy  front  which  he  generally  pre- 
sented to  the  world,  the  Count  of  Fiera- 
mondi  was  of  an  ardent  and  affectionate 
disposition.  Rather  lacking,  perhaps,  in 
resolution  and  strength  of  character,  he 
was  the  more  dependent  on  the  regard 
and  help  of  others,  and  his  fortitude  was 
often  unequal  to  the  sacrifices  which  his 
dignity  and  his  pride  demanded.  Yet 
the  very  pride  which  led  him  into  posi- 
tions that  he  could  not  endure  made  it 
well-nigh  impossible  for  him  to  retreat. 
This  disposition,  an  honourable  but  not 
altogether  a  happy  one,  serves  to  explain 
both  the  uncompromising  attitude  which 
he  had  assumed  in  his  dispute  with  his 
75 


Captain  Dieppe 

wife,  and  the  misery  of  heart  which  had 
betrayed  itself  in  the  poem  he  read  to 
Captain  Dieppe,  with  its  indirect  but 
touching  appeal  to  his  friend's  sympathy. 
Now  his  resolve  was  growing  weaker 
as  the  state  of  .hostilities,  his  loneliness, 
the  sight  of  that  detestable  barricade,  be- 
came more  and  more  odious  to  him.  He 
began  to  make  excuses  for  the  Countess 
— not  indeed  for  all  that  she  had  done 
(for  her  graver  offences  were  unknown 
to  him),  but  for  what  he  knew  of,  for  the 
broken  promise  and  the  renewal  of  ac- 
quaintance with  Paul  de  Roustache.  He 
imputed  to  her  a  picturesque  penitence 
and  imagined  her,  on  her  side  of  the  bar- 
ricade, longing  for  a  pardon  she  dared 
not  ask  and  a  reconciliation  for  which 
she  could  hardly  venture  to  hope;  he 
went  so  far  as  to  embody  these  supposed 
feelings  of  hers  in  a  graceful  little  poem 
addressed  to  himself  and  entitled,  "To 
My  Cruel  Andrea."  In  fine  the  Count 
was  ready  to  go  on  his  knees  if  he  re- 
ceived proper  encouragement.  Here  his 
76 


The  Rendezvous  by  the  Cross 


pride  had  its  turn :  this  encouragement 
he  must  have ;  he  would  not  risk  an  in- 
terview, a  second  rebuff,  a  repetition  of 
that  insolence  of  manner  with  which  he 
had  felt  himself  obliged  to  charge  the 
Countess  or  another  slamming  of  the 
door  in  his  face,  such  as  had  offended  him 
so  justly  and  so  grievously  in  those  in- 
voluntary interviews  which  had  caused 
him  to  change  his  apartments.  But  now 
—the  thought  came  to  him  as  the  happiest 
of  inspirations — he  need  expose  himself 
to  none  of  these  humiliations.  Fortune 
had  provided  a  better  way.  Shunning 
direct  approaches  with  all  their  dan- 
gers, he  would  use  an  intermediary.  By 
Heaven's  kindness  the  ideal  ambassador 
was  ready  to  his  hand— a  man  of  affairs, 
accustomed  to  delicate  negotiations,  yet 
(the  Count  added)  honourable,  true,  faith- 
ful, and  tender-hearted.  "My  friend 
Dieppe  will  rejoice  to  serve  me,"  he  said 
to  himself  with  more  cheerfulness  than 
he  had  felt  since  first  the  barricade  had 
reared  its  hated  front.  He  sent  his  ser- 
77 


Captain  Dieppe 

vant  to  beg  the  favour  of  Dieppe's  com- 
pany. 

At  the  moment— which,  to  be  precise, 
was  four  o'clock  in  the  afternoon — no 
invitation  could  have  been  more  unwel- 
come to  Captain  Dieppe.  He  had  re- 
ceived his  note  from  the  hands  of  a 
ragged  urchin  as  he  strolled  by  the  river 
an  hour  before  :  its  purport  rather  excited 
than  alarmed  him;  but  the  rendezvous 
mentioned  was  so  ill-chosen,  from  his 
point  of  view,  that  it  caused  him  dismay. 
And  he  had  in  vain  tried  to  catch  sight 
of  the  Countess  or  find  means  of  com- 
municating with  her  without  arousing 
suspicion.  He  had  other  motives  too  for 
shrinking  from  such  expressions  of  friend- 
liness as  he  had  reason  to  anticipate  from 
his  host.  But  he  did  not  expect  any- 
thing so  disconcerting  as  the  proposal 
which  the  Count  actually  laid  before  him 
when  he  unwillingly  entered  his  presence. 

"Go  to  her— go  to  her  on  your  be- 
half?" he  exclaimed  in  a  consternation 
which  luckily  passed  for  a  modest  dis- 
78 


The  Rendezvous  by  the  Cross 


trust  of  his  qualifications  for  the  task. 
"  But,  my  dear  friend,  what  am  I  to  say  ?  " 

"  Say  that  I  love  her,"  said  the  Count 
in  his  low,  musical  tones.  "  Say  that  be- 
neath all  differences,  all  estrangements, 
lies  my  deep,  abiding,  unchanging  love." 

Statements  of  this  sort  the  Captain 
preferred  to  make,  when  occasion  arose, 
on  his  own  behalf. 

"  Say  that  I  know  I  have  been  hard  to 
her,  that  I  recede  from  my  demand,  that 
I  will  be  content  with  her  simple  word 
that  she  will  not,  without  my  knowledge, 
hold  any  communication  with  the  person 
she  knows  of." 

The  Captain  now  guessed— or  at  least 
very  shrewdly  suspected— the  position  of 
affairs.  But  he  showed  no  signs  of  under- 
standing. 

"  Tell  her,"  pursued  the  Count,  laying 
his  hand  on  Dieppe's  shoulder  and  speak- 
ing almost  as  ardently  as  though  he  were 
addressing  his  wife  herself,  "  that  I  never 
suspected  her  of  more  than  a  little  levity, 
and  that  I  never  will  or  could." 
79 


Captain  Dieppe 

Dieppe  found  himself  speculating  how 
much  the  Count's  love  and  trust  might 
induce  him  to  include  in  the  phrase  "  a 
little  levity." 

"That  she  should  listen— I  will  not 
say  to  love-making—but  even  to  gal- 
lantry, to  a  hint  of  admiration,  to  the 
least  attempt  at  flirtation,  has  never  en- 
tered my  head  about  my  Emilia." 

The  Captain,  amid  all  his  distress, 
marked  the  name. 

"I  trust  her— I  trust  her!"  cried  the 
Count,  raising  his  hands  in  an  obvious 
stress  of  emotion,  "  as  I  trust  myself,  as  I 
would  trust  my  brother,  my  bosom  friend. 
Yes,  my  dear  friend,  as  I  now  trust  you 
yourself.  Go  to  her  and  say,  '  I  am  An- 
drea's friend,  his  trusted  friend.  I  am  the 
messenger  of  love.  Give  me  your  love—' " 

"What?"  cried  the  Captain.  The 
words  sounded  wonderfully  attractive. 

" '  Give  me  your  love  to  carry  back  to 
him.' " 

"  Oh,  exactly,"  murmured  the  Captain, 
relapsing  into  altruistic  gloom. 
80 


The  Rendezvous  by  the  Cross 


"  Then  all  will  be  forgiven  between  us. 
Only  our  love  will  be  remembered. 
And  you,  my  friend,  will  have  the  hap- 
piness of  seeing  us  reunited,  and  of 
knowing  that  two  grateful  hearts  thank 
you.  I  can  imagine  no  greater  joy." 

"  It  would  certainly  be— er— intensely 
gratifying,"  murmured  Dieppe. 

"  You  would  remember  it  all  your  life. 
It  is  not  a  thing  a  man  gets  the  chance 
of  doing  often." 

"No,"  agreed  the  Captain;  but  he 
thought  to  himself,  "  Deuce  take  it,  he 
talks  as  if  he  were  doing  me  a  favour !  " 

"  My  friend,  you  look  sad ;  you  don't 
seem—" 

"  Oh,  yes,  I  do— yes,  I  am,"  interrupted 
the  Captain,  hastily  assuming,  or  try- 
ing to  assume,  a  cheerful  expression. 
"  But—" 

"I  understand— I  understand.  You 
doubt  yourself  ? " 

"That 's  it,"  assented  the  Captain  very 
truthfully. 

"Your    tact,    your    discretion,    your 

81 


Captain  Dieppe 

knowledge  of  women?"  (Dieppe  had 
never  in  his  life  doubted  any  of  these 
things;  but  he  let  the  accusation  pass.) 
"  Don't  be  afraid.  Emilia  will  like  you. 
I  know  that  Emilia  will  like  you.  And 
you  will  like  her.  I  know  it." 

"  You  think  so  ?  "  No  intonation  could 
have  expressed  greater  doubt. 

"  I  am  certain  of  it ;  and  when  two  peo- 
ple like  one  another,  all  goes  easily." 

"Well,  not  always,"  said  the  Captain, 
whose  position  made  him  less  optimistic. 

The  Count  felt  in  his  waistcoat-pocket. 
Dieppe  sat  looking  down  towards  the 
floor  with  a  frown  on  his  face.  He  raised 
his  eyes  to  find  the  Count  holding  out  his 
hand  towards  him ;  in  the  open  palm  of 
it  lay  a  wedding-ring. 

"  Take  it  back  to  her,"  said  the  Count. 

"Really  had  n't  you  better  do  that 
yourself  ? "  expostulated  the  Captain,  who 
felt  himself  hard  driven  by  fate. 

"  No,"  said  the  Count,  firmly.  "  I  leave 
it  all  to  you.  Put  it  on  her  finger  and 
say,  'This  is  the  pledge  of  love— of  love 
82 


The  Rendezvous  by  the  Cross 


renewed— of  Andrea's  undying  love  for 
you.' "  He  thrust  the  symbol  of  bliss  into 
Captain  Dieppe's  most  reluctant  hand. 
The  Captain  sat  and  looked  at  it  in  a 
horrified  fascination. 

"You  mil  do  it  for  met"  urged  the 
Count.  "  You  can't  refuse !  Ah,  my 
friend,  if  my  sorrow  does  n't  move  you, 
think  of  hers.  She  is  alone  there  in  that 
wing  of  the  house— even  her  cousin,  who 
was  with  her,  was  obliged  to  leave  her 
three  days  ago.  There  she  sits,  thinking 
of  her  faults,  poor  child,  in  solitude ! 
Alas,  it  is  only  too  likely  in  tears!  I 
can't  bear  to  think  of  her  in  tears." 

The  Captain  quite  understood  that 
feeling ;  he  had  seen  her  in  them. 

"  You  will  help  us  ?  Your  noble  nature 
will  force  you  to  it !  " 

After  a  moment's  hesitation,  pardon- 
able surely  in  weak  humanity,  Dieppe 
put  the  Countess's  wedding-ring  in  his 
pocket,  rose  to  his  feet,  and  with  a  firm 
unfaltering  face  held  out  his  hand  to  his 
friend  and  host. 

83 


Captain  Dieppe 

"  I  can  refuse  you  nothing,"  he  said,  in 
most  genuine  emotion.  "  I  will  do  what 
you  ask.  May  it  bring  happiness  to— to 
—to  all  of  us ! "  He  wrung  the  Count's 
hand  with  a  grip  that  spoke  of  settled 
purpose.  "You  shall  hear  how  I  fare 
very  soon,"  he  said,  as  he  made  for  the 
door. 

The  Count  nodded  hopefully,  and, 
when  he  was  left  alone,  set  to  work  on  a 
little  lyric  of  joy,  with  which  to  welcome 
the  return  of  his  forgiven  and  forgiving 
spouse. 

But  it  was  hard  on  Captain  Dieppe; 
the  strictest  moralist  may  admit  that 
without  endangering  his  principles.  Say 
the  Captain  had  been  blameworthy ;  still 
his  punishment  was  heavy— heavy  and 
most  woefully  prompt.  His  better  na- 
ture, his  finer  feelings,  his  instincts  of 
honour  and  loyalty,  might  indeed  respond 
to  the  demand  made  on  them  by  the  mis- 
sion with  which  his  friend  entrusted  him. 
But  the  demand  was  heavy,  the  call 
grievous  Where  he  had  pictured  joy, 
84 


The  Rendezvous  by  the  Cross 


there  remained  now  only  renunciation; 
he  had  dreamed  of  conquest ;  there  could 
be  none,  save  the  hardest  and  least  grate- 
ful, the  conquest  of  himself.  Firm  the 
Captain  might  be,  but  sad  he  must  bo. 
He  could  still  serve  the  Countess  (was 
not  Paul  de  Roustache  still  dangerous  ?), 
but  he  could  look  for  no  reward.  Small 
wonder  that  the  meeting,  whose  risks  and 
difficulty  had  made  it  seem  before  only 
the  sweeter,  now  lost  all  its  delight,  and 
became  the  hardest  of  ordeals,  the  most 
severe  and  grim  of  duties. 

If  this  was  the  Captain's  mood,  that  of 
the  lady  whom  he  was  to  meet  could  be 
hardly  more  cheerful.  If  conscience 
seemed  to  trouble  her  less,  and  unhappy 
love  not  to  occupy  her  mind  as  it  gov- 
erned his,  the  external  difficulties  of  her 
position  occasioned  her  greater  distress 
and  brought  her  near  despair.  Paul  de 
Roustache's  letter  had  been  handed  to  her 
by  her  servant,  with  a  smile  half  re- 
proachful, half  mocking;  she  had  seized 
it,  torn  it  open,  and  read  it.  She  under- 
85 


Captain  Dieppe 


stood  its  meaning;  she  saw  that  the 
dreaded  crisis  had  indeed  come ;  and  she 
was  powerless  to  deal  with  it,  or  to  avert 
the  catastrophe  it  threatened.  She  sat 
before  it  now,  very  near  to  doing  just 
what  Count  Andrea  hated  to  think  of  and 
Captain  Dieppe  could  not  endure  to  see ; 
and  as  she  read  and  re-read  the  hateful 
thing  she  moaned  softly  to  herself : 

"  Oh,  how  could  I  be  so  silly !  How 
could  I  put  myself  in  such  a  position? 
How  could  I  consent  to  anything  of  the 
sort?  I  don't  know  what  '11  happen.  I 
have  n't  got  fifty  thousand  francs  !  Oh, 
Emilia,  how  could  you  do  it?  I  don't 
know  what  to  do !  And  I  'm  all  alone— 
alone  to  face  this  fearful  trouble !  "  In- 
deed the  Count,  led  no  doubt  by  the  pen- 
etrating sympathy  of  love,  seemed  to 
have  divined  her  feelings  with  a  wonder- 
ful accuracy. 

She  glanced  up  at  the  clock;  it  was 

nearly  five.     The  smile  that  came  on  her 

face  was  sad  and  timid ;  yet  it  was  a  smile 

of  hope.     "  Perhaps  he  '11  be  able  to  help 

86 


The  Rendezvous  by  the  Cross 


me,"  she  thought.  "He  has  no  money, 
no— only  fifty  francs,  poor  man !  But 
he  seems  to  be  brave— oh,  yes,  he  's 
brave.  And  I  think  he 's  clever.  I  '11  go 
to  the  meeting-place  and  take  the  note. 
He  's  the  only  chance."  She  rose  and 
walked  to  a  mirror.  She  certainly  looked 
a  little  less  woe-begone  now,  and  she  ex- 
amined her  appearance  with  an  earnest 
criticism.  The  smile  grew  more  hopeful, 
a  little  more  assured,  as  she  murmured 
to  herself,  "I  think  he  '11  help  me,  if 
he  can,  you  know;  because — well, 
because—"  For  an  instant  she  even 
laughed.  "And  I  rather  like  him  too, 
you  know,"  she  ended  by  confiding  to  the 
mirror.  These  latter  actions  and  words 
were  not  in  such  complete  harmony  with 
Count  Andrea's  mental  picture  of  the 
lady  on  the  other  side  of  the  barricade. 

Betaking  herself  to  the  room  from 
which  she  had  first  beheld  Captain 
Dieppe's  face— not,  as  the  Count  would 
have  supposed,  as  a  consequence  of  any 
design,  but  by  the  purest  and  most  un- 
87 


Captain  Dieppe 

expected  chance— she  arrayed  herself  in 
a  short  skirt  and  thick  boots,  and 
wrapped  a  cloak  round  her,  for  a  close, 
misty  rain  was  already  falling,  and  the 
moaning  of  the  wind  in  the  trees  prom- 
ised a  stormy  evening.  Then  she  stole 
out  and  made  for  the  gate  in  the  right 
wall  of  the  gardens.  The  same  old  ser- 
vant who  had  brought  the  note  was  there 
to  let  her  out. 

"You  will  be  gone  long,  Contessa?" 
she  asked. 

"No,  Maria,  not  long.  If  I  am  asked 
for,  say  I  am  lying  down." 

"Who  should  ask  for  you?  The 
Count?" 

"Not  very  likely,"  she  replied  with  a 
laugh,  in  which  the  servant  joined. 
"  But  if  he  does,  I  am  absolutely  not  to 
be  seen,  Maria."  And  with  another  little 
laugh  she  began  to  skirt  the  back  of  the 
gardens  so  as  to  reach  the  main  road,  and 
thus  make  her  way  by  the  village  to  the 
Cross  on  the  hill,  and  the  little  hut  in  the 
hollow  behind  it. 

88 


The  Rendezvous  by  the  Cross 


Almost  at  the  same  moment  Captain 
Dieppe,  cursing  his  fortune,  his  folly,  and 
the  weather,  with  the  collar  of  his  coat 
turned  up,  his  hat  crushed  hard  on  his 
head,  and  (just  in  case  of  accidents)  his 
revolver  in  his  pocket,  came  out  into  the 
garden  and  began  to  descend  the  hill 
towards  where  the  stepping-stones  gave 
him  passage  across  the  river.  Thus  he 
also  would  reach  the  village,  pass  through 
it,  and  mount  the  hill  to  the  Cross.  His 
way  was  shorter  and  his  pace  quicker. 
To  be  there  before  the  lady  would  be 
only  polite ;  it  would  also  give  him  a  few 
minutes  in  which  to  arrange  his  thoughts 
and  settle  what  might  be  the  best  way  to 
open  to  her  the  new— the  very  new- 
things  that  he  had  to  say.  In  the  preoc- 
cupation of  these  he  thought  little  of  his 
later  appointment  at  seven  o'clock — al- 
though it  was  in  view  of  this  that  he  had 
slipped  the  revolver  into  his  pocket. 

Finally,  just  about  the  same  time  also, 
Guillaume  was  rehearsing  to  Paul  de 
Roustache  exactly  what  they  were  to  do 
89 


Captain  Dieppe 

and  where  their  respective  parts  began 
and  terminated.  Paul  was  listening  with 
deep  attention,  with  a  curious  smile  on 
his  face,  and  with  the  inner  reflection 
that  things  in  the  end  might  turn  out 
quite  differently  from  what  his  astute 
companion  supposed  would  be  the  case. 
Moreover — also  just  in  case  of  accidents 
—both  of  these  gentlemen,  it  may  be 
mentioned,  had  slipped  revolvers  into 
their  pockets.  Such  things  may  be  use- 
ful when  one  carries  large  sums  of  money 
to  a  rendezvous ;  equally  so  in  case  one 
hopes  to  carry  them  back  from  it.  The 
former  was  M.  Guillaume's  condition,  the 
latter  that  of  Paul  de  Roustache.  On 
the  whole  there  seemed  a  possibility  of 
interesting  incidents  occurring  by  or  in 
the  neighbourhood  of  the  Cross  on  the 
hillside  above  the  village. 

What  recked  the  Count  of  Fieramondi 
of  that?  He  was  busy  composing  his 
lyric  in  honour  of  the  return  of  his  for- 
given and  forgiving  Countess.  Of  what 
was  happening  he  had  no  thought. 
90 


The  Rendezvous  by  the  Cross 


And  not  less  ignorant  of  these  possible 
incidents  was  a  lady  who  this  same  even- 
ing stood  in  the  courtyard  of  the  only 
inn  of  the  little  town  of  Sasellano,  where 
the  railway  ended,  and  whence  the  trav- 
eller to  the  Count  of  Fieramondi's  Castle 
must  take  a  carriage  and  post-horses. 

The  lady  demanded  horses,  protested, 
raged ;  most  urgent  business  called  her 
to  pursue  her  journey,  she  said.  But  the 
landlord  hesitated  and  shook  his  head. 

"It  's  good  twelve  miles  and  against 
collar  almost  all  the  way,"  he  urged. 

"  I  will  pay  what  you  like,"  she  cried. 

"  But  see,  the  rain  falls — it  has  fallen 
for  two  hours.  The  water  will  be  down 
from  the  hills,  and  the  stream  will  be  in 
flood  before  you  reach  the  ford.  Your 
Excellency  had  best  sleep  here  to-night. 
Indeed  your  Excellency  must." 

"  I  won't,"  said  her  Excellency  flatly. 

And  at  that  point— which  may  be 
called  the  direct  issue— the  dispute  must 
now  be  left. 


91 


THE  HUT  IN  THE  HOLLOW 

Geography,  in  itself  a  tiresome  thing, 
concerned  with  such  soulless  matters  as 
lengths,  depths,  heights,  breadths,  and  the 
like,  gains  interest  so  soon  as  it  es- 
tablishes a  connection  with  the  history  of 
kingdoms,  and  the  ambitions,  passions, 
or  fortunes  of  mankind;  so  that  men 
may  pore  over  a  map  with  more  eager- 
ness than  the  greatest  of  romances  can 
excite,  or  scan  a  countryside  with  a  keen- 
ness that  the  beauty  of  no  picture  could 
evoke.  To  Captain  Dieppe,  a  soldier, 
even  so  much  apology  was  not  necessary 
for  the  careful  scrutiny  of  topographical 
features  which  was  his  first  act  on  reach- 
ing the  Cross  on  the  hillside.  His  exam- 
ination, hindered  by  increasing  darkness 
92 


The  Hut  in  the  Hollow 


and  mist,  yet  yielded  him  a  general  im- 
pression correct  enough. 

Standing  with  his  back  to  the  Cross, 
he  had  on  his  right  hand  the  slope  down 
to  the  village  which  he  had  just  ascended ; 
on  his  left  the  road  fell  still  more  precip- 
itately in  zigzag  curves.  He  could  not 
see  it  where  it  reached  the  valley  and 
came  to  the  river;  had  he  been  able,  he 
would  have  perceived  that  it  ran  down 
to  and  crossed  the  ford  to  which  the  land- 
lord of  the  inn  at  Sasellano  had  referred. 
But  immediately  facing  him  he  could  dis- 
cern the  river  in  its  bottom,  and  could 
look  down  over  the  steep  grassy  declivity 
which  descended  to  it  from  the  point  at 
which  he  stood ;  there  was  no  more  than 
room  for  the  road,  and  on  the  road 
hardly  room  for  a  vehicle  to  pass  an- 
other, or  itself  to  turn.  On  all  three 
sides  the'  ground  fell,  and  he  would  have 
seemed  to  stand  on  a  watch-tower  had  it 
not  been  that  behind  him,  at  the  back  of 
the  cross,  the  upward  slope  of  grass 
showed  that  the  road  did  not  surmount 
93 


Captain  Dieppe 

the  hill,  but  hung  on  to  and  skirted  its 
side  some  fifty  paces  from  the  top.  Yet 
even  where  he  was  he  found  himself  ex- 
posed to  the  full  stress  of  the  weather, 
which  had  now  increased  to  a  storm  of 
wind  and  rain.  The  time  of  his  earlier 
appointment  was  not  quite  due ;  but  the 
lady  knew  her  way.  With  a  shiver  the 
Captain  turned  and  began  to  scramble 
up  towards  the  summit.  The  sooner  he 
found  the  shepherd's  hut  the  better:  if 
it  were  open,  he  would  enter;  if  not, 
he  could  at  least  get  some  shelter  under 
the  lee  of  it.  But  he  trusted  that  the 
Countess  would  keep  her  tryst  punctu- 
ally :  she  must  be  come  and  gone  before 
seven  o'clock,  or  she  would  risk  an  en- 
counter with  her  enemy,  Paul  de  Rous- 
tache.  "However  I  could  probably 
smuggle  her  away;  and  at  least  he 
should  n't  speak  to  her,"  he  reflected,  and 
was  somewhat  comforted. 

At  the  top  of  the  hill  the  formation 
was  rather  peculiar.     The  crown   once 
reached,   the   ground  dipped  very  sud- 
94 


The  Hut  in  the  Hollow 


denly  from  all  sides,  forming  a  round  de- 
pression in  shape  like  a  basin  and  at  the 
lowest  point  some  twenty  feet  beneath 
the  top  of  its  enclosing  walls.  In  this 
circular  hollow— not  in  the  centre,  but 
no  more  than  six  feet  from  the  base  of 
the  slope  by  which  the  Captain  ap- 
proached—stood the  shepherd's  hut.  Its 
door  was  open,  swinging  to  and  fro  as 
the  gusts  of  wind  rose  and  fell.  The 
Captain  ran  down  and  entered.  There 
was  nothing  inside  but  a  rough  stool,  a 
big  and  heavy  block,  something  like  those 
one  may  see  in  butcher's  shops  (probably 
it  had  served  the  shepherds  for  seat  or 
table,  as  need  arose),  and  five  or  six  large 
trusses  of  dry  maize-straw  flung  down  in 
a  corner.  The  place  was  small,  rude, 
and  comfortless  enough,  but  if  the  hang- 
ing door,  past  which  the  rain  drove  in 
fiercely,  could  be  closed,  the  four  walls  of 
sawn  logs  would  afford  decent  shelter 
from  the  storm  during  the  brief  period 
of  the  conference  which  the  Captain 
awaited. 

95 


Captain  Dieppe 


Dieppe  looked  at  his  watch ;  he  could 
just  see  the  figures— it  was  ten  minutes 
to  six.  Mounting  again  to  the  summit, 
he  looked  round.  Yes,  there  she  was, 
making  her  way  up  the  hill,  painfully 
struggling  with  refractory  cloak  and 
skirt.  A  moment  later  she  joined  him 
and  gave  him  her  hand,  panting  out : 

"  Oh,  I  'm  so  glad  you  're  here ! 
There  's  the  most  fearful  trouble." 

There  was,  of  more  than  one  kind ; 
none  knew  it  better  than  Dieppe. 

"  One  need  not,  all  the  same,  get  any 
wetter,"  he  remarked.  "Come  into  the 
hut,  madame." 

She  paid  no  heed  to  his  words,  but 
stood  there  looking  forlornly  round.  But 
the  next  instant  the  Captain  enforced  his 
invitation  by  catching  hold  of  her  arm 
and  dragging  her  a  pace  or  two  down  the 
hill,  while  he  threw  himself  on  the  ground, 
his  head  just  over  the  top  of  the  eminence. 
"Hush,"  he  whispered.  His  keen  ear 
had  caught  a  footstep  on  the  road,  al- 
though darkness  and  mist  prevented  him 
96 


The  Hut  in  the  Hollow 


from  seeing  who  approached.  It  was 
barely  six.  Was  Paul  de  Roustache  an 
hour  too  early  f 

"  What  is  it  ? "  she  asked  in  a  low,  anx- 
ious voice.  "Is  anybody  coming!  Oh, 
if  it  should  be  Andrea !  " 

"  It  ?s  not  the  Count,  but— Come  down 
into  the  hut,  madame.  You  must  n't  be 
seen." 

Now  she  obeyed  his  request.  Dieppe 
stood  in  the  doorway  a  moment,  listening. 
Then  he  pushed  the  door  shut— it  opened 
inwards— and  with  some  effort  set  the 
wooden  block  against  it. 

"  That  will  keep  out  the  rain,"  said  he, 
"and— and  anything  else,  you  know." 

They  were  in  dense  darkness.  The 
Captain  took  a  candle  and  a  cardboard 
box  of  matches  from  an  inner  pocket. 
Striking  a  match  after  one  or  two  efforts 
(for  matches  and  box  were  both  damp), 
he  melted  the  end  of  the  candle  and 
pressed  it  on  the  block  till  it  adhered. 
Then  he  lit  the  wick.  The  lady  watched 
him  admiringly. 

97 


Captain  Dieppe 


"You  seem  ready  for  anything,"  she 
said.  But  the  Captain  shook  his  head 
sorrowfully,  as  he  laid  his  match-box 
down  on  a  dry  spot  on  the  block. 

"  We  have  no  time  to  lose—"  he  began. 

"No,"  she  agreed,  and  opening  her 
cloak  she  searched  for  something.  Find- 
ing the  object  she  sought,  she  held  it  out 
to  him,  "I  got  that  this  afternoon. 
Read  it,"  she  said.  "  It 's  from  the  man 
you  met  last  night— Paul  de  Roustache. 
The  'Other  quarter'  means  Andrea. 
And  that  means  ruin." 

Captain  Dieppe  gently  waved  the  letter 
aside. 

"  No,  you  must  read  it,"  she  urged. 

He  took  it,  and  bending  down  to  the 
candle  read  it.  "  Just  what  it  would  be," 
he  said. 

"  I  can't  explain  anything,  you  know," 
she  added  hastily,  with  a  smile  half  rue- 
ful, half  amused. 

"  To  me,  at  least,  there  's  no  need  you 
should."  He  paused  a  moment  in  hesita- 
tion or  emotion.  Then  he  put  his  hand 
98 


The  Hut  in  the  Hollow 


in  his  waistcoat-pocket,  drew  forth  a 
small  object,  and  held  it  out  towards  his 
companion  between  his  finger  and  thumb. 
In  the  dim  light  she  did  not  perceive  its 
nature. 

"This,"  said  the  Captain,  conscien- 
tiously and  even  textually  delivering  the 
message  with  which  he  was  charged,  "  is 
the  pledge  of  love." 

"  Captain  Dieppe !  "  she  cried,  leaping 
back  and  blushing  vividly.  "Really 
I —  !  At  such  a  time — under  the  circ — 
And  what  is  it  ?  I  can't  see." 

"The  pledge  of  love  renewed"— the 
Captain  went  on  in  a  loyal  hastiness,  but 
not  without  the  sharpest  pang— "of 
Andrea's  undying  love  for  you." 

"  Of  Andrea's—  !  "  She  stopped,  pre- 
sumably from  excess  of  emotion.  Her 
lips  were  parted  in  a  wondering  smile, 
her  eyes  danced  merrily  even  while  they 
questioned.  "What  in  the  world  is  it?" 
she  asked  again. 

"  Your  wedding-ring,"  said  the  Captain 
with  sad  and  impressive  solemnity,  and, 
99 


Captain  Dieppe 

on  the  pretext  of  snuffing  the  candle  which 
flickered  and  guttered  in  the  draught,  he 
turned  away.  Thus  he  did  not  perceive 
the  uncontrollable  bewilderment  which 
appeared  on  his  companion's  face. 

"  Wedding-ring  !  "  she  murmured. 

"He  sends  it  back  again  to  you,"  ex- 
plained the  Captain,  still  busy  with  the 
candle. 

A  long-drawn  "  O— oh  !  "  came  from 
her  lips,  its  lengthened  intonation  seem- 
ing to  express  the  dawning  of  compre- 
hension. "Yes,  of  course,"  she  added 
very  hastily. 

"  He  loves  you,"  said  the  Captain,  fac- 
ing her— and  his  task— again.  "  He  can't 
bear  his  own  sorrow,  nor  to  think  of 
yours.  He  withdraws  his  demand ;  your 
mere  word  to  hold  no  communication 
with  the  person  you  know  of,  without  his 
-knowledge,  contents  him.  I  am  his  mes- 
senger. Give  me  your  love  to— to  carry 
back  to  him." 

"  Did  he  tell  you  to  say  all  that  ? "  she 
asked. 

100 


The  Hut  in  the  Hollow 


"Ah,  madarae,  should  I  say  it  other- 
wise? Should  I  who— "  With  a  mighty 
effort  he  checked  himself,  and  resumed 
in  constrained  tones.  "  My  dear  friend 
the  Count  bade  me  put  this  ring  on  your 
finger,  madame,  in  token  of  your— your 
reunion  with  him." 

Her  expression  now  was  decidedly  puz- 
zling ;  certainly  she  was  struggling  with 
some  emotion,  but  it  was  not  quite  clear 
with  what. 

"  Pray  do  it  then,"  she  said,  and,  draw- 
ing off  the  stout  little  gauntlet  she  wore, 
she  presented  her  hand  to  the  Captain. 
Bowing  low,  he  took  it  lightly,  and  placed 
the  holy  symbol  on  the  appropriate  finger. 
But  he  could  not  make  up  his  mind  to 
part  from  the  hand  without  one  lingering 
look ;  and  he  observed  with  some  surprise 
that  the  ring  was  considerably  too  large 
for  the  finger.  "It  's  very  loose,"  he 
murmured,  taking  perhaps  a  sad,  whimsi- 
cal pleasure  in  the  conceit  of  seeing  some- 
thing symbolical  in  the  fact  to  which  he 
called  attention ;  in  truth  the  ring  fitted 
101 


Captain  Dieppe 

so  ill  as  to  be  in  great  danger  of  dropping 
off. 

"Yes— er— it  is  rather  loose.  I— I 
hate  tight  rings,  don't  you  ? "  She  smiled 
with  vigour  (if  the  expression  be  allow- 
able) and  added,  "I  've  grown  thinner 
too,  I  suppose." 

"From  grief?"  asked  he,  and  he  could 
not  keep  a  touch  of  bitterness  out  of  his 
voice. 

"Well,  anxiety,"  she  amended.  "I 
think  I  'd  better  carry  the  ring  in  my 
pocket.  It  would  be  a  pity  to  lose  it." 
She  took  off  the  symbol  and  dropped  it, 
somewhat  carelessly  it  must  be  confessed, 
into  a  side-pocket  of  her  coat.  Then  she 
seated  herself  on  the  stool,  and  looked 
up  at  the  Captain.  Her  smile  became 
rather  mocking,  as  she  observed  to  Cap- 
tain Dieppe : 

"Andrea  has  charged  you  with  this 
commission  since — since  last  night,  I 
suppose  ?  " 

The  words  acted— whether  by  the  in- 
tention of  their  utterer  or  not— as  a  spark 
102 


The  Hut  in  the  Hollow 


to  the  Captain's  ardour.  Loyal  he  would 
be  to  his  friend  and  to  his  embassy,  but 
that  she  should  suspect  him  of  insincer- 
ity, that  she  should  not  know  his  love, 
was  more  than  he  could  bear. 

"Ah,"  he  said,  seizing  her  ungloved 
hand  again,  "  since  last  night  indeed ! 
Last  night  it  was  my  dream— my  mad 
dream—  Ah,  don't  be  angry!  Don't 
draw  your  hand  away." 

The  lady's  conduct  indicated  that  she 
proposed  to  assent  to  both  these  requests ; 
she  smiled  still  and  she  did  not  withdraw 
her  hand  from  Dieppe's  eager  grasp. 

"  My  honour  is  pledged,"  he  went  on, 
"but  suffer  me  once  to  kiss  this  hand 
now  that  it  wears  no  ring,  to  dream  that 
it  need  wear  none,  that  you  are  free. 
Ah,  Countess,  ah,  Emilia— for  once  let 
me  call  you  Emilia?" 

"  For  once,  if  you  like.  Don't  get  into 
the  habit  of  it,"  she  advised. 

"No,  I  '11  only  think  of  you  by  that 
name." 

''  I  should  n't  even  do  as  much  as  that. 
103 


Captain  Dieppe 

It  would  be  a — I  mean  you  might  forget 
and  call  me  it,  you  know." 

"  Never  was  man  so  unhappy  as  I  am," 
he  cried  in  a  low  but  intense  voice. 
"  But  I  am  wrong.  I  must  remember  my 
trust.  And  you— you  love  the  Count  ?  " 

"  I  am  very  fond  of  Andrea,"  said  she, 
almost  in  a  whisper.  She  seemed  to  suffer 
sorely  from  embarrassment,  for  she  added 
hastily,  "Don't— don't  press  me  about 
that  any  more."  Yet  she  was  smiling. 

The  Captain  knelt  on  one  knee  and 
kissed  her  hand  very  respectfully.  The 
mockery  passed  out  of  her  smile,  and  she 
said  in  a  voice  that  for  a  moment  was 
grave  and  tender : 

"  Thank  you.  I  shall  like  to  remember 
that.  Because  I  think  you  're  a  brave 
man  and  a  true  friend,  Captain  Dieppe." 

"  I  thank  God  for  helping  me  to  remain 
a  gentleman,"  said  he ;  and,  although  his 
manner  was  (according  to  his  custom)  a 
little  pronounced  and  theatrical,  he  spoke 
with  a  very  genuine  feeling.  She  pressed 
her  hand  on  his  before  she  drew  it  away. 
104 


The  Hut  in  the  Hollow 


"  You  '11  be  my  friend  ? "  he  asked. 

She  paused  before  she  replied,  looking 
at  him  intently;  then  she  answered  in 
a  low  voice,  speaking  slowly  and  deliber- 
ately : 

"  I  will  be  all  to  you  that  I  can  and  that 
you  ask  me  to  be." 

"  I  have  your  word,  dear  friend  ? " 

"  You  have  my  word.  If  you  ask  me, 
I  will  redeem  it."  She  looked  at  him  still 
as  though  she  had  said  a  great  thing— as 
though  a  pledge  had  passed  between  them, 
and  a  solemn  promise  from  her  to  him. 

What  seemed  her  feeling  found  an  an- 
swer in  Dieppe.  He  pressed  her  for  no 
more  promises,  he  urged  her  to  no  more 
demonstration  of  affection  towards  him. 
But  their  eyes  met,  their  glances  con- 
quered the  dimness  of  the  candle's  light 
and  spoke  to  one  another.  Rain  beat  and 
wind  howled  outside.  Dieppe  heard  no- 
thing but  an  outspoken  confession  that 
left  honour  safe  and  inviolate,  and  yet  told 
him  the  sweetest  thing  that  he  could  hear 
—a  thing  so  sweet  that  for  the  instant  its 
105 


Captain  Dieppe 

sadness  was  forgotten.  He  had  tri- 
umphed, though  he  could  have  no  re- 
ward of  victory.  He  was  loved,  though 
he  might  hear  no  words  of  love.  But  he 
could  serve  her  still— serve  her  and  save 
her  from  the  danger  and  humiliation 
which,  notwithstanding  Count  Andrea's 
softened  mood,  still  threatened  her. 
That  he  even  owed  her;  for  he  did  not 
doubt  that  the  danger,  and  the  solitude  in 
which,  but  for  him,  it  had  to  be  faced, 
had  done  much  to  ripen  and  to  quicken 
her  regard  for  him.  As  for  himself,  with 
such  a  woman  as  the  Countess  in  the  case, 
he  was  not  prepared  to  own  the  need  of 
any  external  or  accidental  stimulus.  Yet 
beauty  distressed  is  beauty  doubled ;  that 
is  true  all  the  world  over,  and,  no  doubt, 
it  held  good  even  for  Captain  Dieppe. 
He  had  been  loyal— under  the  circum- 
stances wonderfully  loyal— to  the  Count ; 
but  he  felt  quite  justified,  if  he  proved 
equal  to  the  task,  in  robbing  his  friend 
of  the  privilege  of  forgiveness— aye,  and 
of  the  pleasure  of  paying  fifty  thousand 
106 


The  Hut  in  the  Hollow 


francs.  He  resolved  that  the  Count  of 
Fieramondi  should  never  know  of  Paul 
de  Roustache's  threats  against  the  Count- 
ess or  of  his  demand  for  that  exorbitant 
sum  of  money. 

With  most  people  in  moments  of  exal- 
tation to  resolve  that  a  result  is  desirable 
is  but  a  preliminary  to  undertaking  its 
realisation.  Dieppe  had  more  than  his 
share  of  this  temper.  He  bent  down  to- 
wards his  new  and  dear  friend,  and  said 
confidently : 

"  Don't  distress  yourself  about  this  fel- 
low—I  '11  manage  the  whole  affair  with- 
out trouble  or  publicity."  Yet  he  had  no 
notion  how  his  words  were  to  be  made 
good. 

"You  will?"  she  asked,  with  a  confi- 
dence in  the  Captain  apparently  as  great 
as  his  own. 

"  Certainly,"  said  he,  with  a  twirl  of  his 
moustache. 

"  Then  I  'd  better  leave  it  to  you  and 
go  home  at  once." 

The  inference  was  not  quite  what  the 

107 


Captain  Dieppe 


Captain  had  desired.  But  he  accepted 
it  with  a  tolerably  good  grace.  When  a 
man  has  once  resisted  temptation  there  is 
little  to  be  gained,  and  something  per- 
haps to  be  risked,  by  prolonging  the  in- 
terview. 

"  I  suppose  so,"  said  he.  "  I  '11  escort 
you  as  far  as  the  village.  But  what 's  the 
time?" 

He  took  out  his  watch  and  held  it  down 
to  the  flame  of  the  candle ;  the  lady  rose 
and  looked,  not  over  his  shoulder,  but 
just  round  his  elbow. 

"  Ah,  that 's  curious,"  observed  the  Cap- 
tain, regarding  the  hands  of  his  watch. 
"  How  quickly  the  time  has  gone !  " 

"Very.  But  why  is  it  curious?"  she 
asked. 

He  glanced  down  at  her  face,  mischiev- 
ously turned  up  to  his. 

"  Well,  it  's  not  curious,"  he  admitted, 
"  but  it  is  awkward." 

"  It 's  only  just  seven." 

"  Precisely  the  hour  of  my  appointment 
with  Paul  de  Roustache." 

108 


The  Hut  in  the  Hollow 


"With  Paul  de  Roustache?" 

"Don't  trouble  yourself.  All  will  be 
well." 

"  What  appointment  ?  Where  are  you 
to  meet  him  ? " 

"  By  the  Cross,  on  the  road  outside 
there." 

"  Heavens  !  If  I  were  to  meet  him ! 
He  must  n't  see  me !  " 

"Certainly  not,"  agreed  the  Captain 
with  cheerful  confidence. 

"  But  how  are  we  to  avoid—  ?  " 

"Ah,  you  put  no  real  trust  in  me," 
murmured  he  in  gentle  reproach,  and,  it 
must  be  added,  purely  for  the  sake  of  gain- 
ing a  moment's  reflection. 

"  Could  n't  we  walk  boldly  by  him  ? " 
she  suggested. 

"  He  would  recognise  you  to  a  certainty, 
even  if  he  didn't  me." 

"Recognise  me?  Oh,  I  don't  know. 
He  does  n't  know  me  very  well." 

"  What  f  "  said  the  Captain,  really  a  lit- 
tle astonished  this  time. 

"And  there  's  the  rain  and— and  the 

109 


Captain  Dieppe 

night  and— and  all  that,"  she  murmured 
in  some  confusion. 

"No  man  who  has  ever  seen  you— 
began  the  Captain. 

"Hush!  What's  that?"  whispered 
she,  grasping  his  arm  nervously.  The 
Captain,  recalled  to  the  needs  of  the  situ- 
ation, abandoned  his  compliment,  or  ar- 
gument, whichever  it  was,  and  listened 
intently. 

There  were  voices  outside  the  hut,  some 
little  way  off,  seeming  to  come  from  above, 
as  though  the  speakers  were  on  the  crest 
of  the  hill.  They  were  audible  intermit- 
tently, but  connectedly  enough,  as  though 
their  owners  waited  from  time  to  time  for 
a  lull  in  the  gusty  wind  before  they  spoke. 

"  Hold  the  lantern  here.  Why,  it 's  past 
seven !  He  ought  to  be  here  by  now." 

"  We  Ve  searched  every  inch  of  the 
ground." 

"  That 's  Paul  de  Eoustache,"  whispered 
the  Captain. 

"  Perhaps  he  's  lying  down  out  of  the 
storm  somewhere.     Shall  we  shout  ? " 
110 


The  Hut  in  the  Hollow 


"  Oil,  if  you  like— but  you  risk  being 
overheard.  I  'm  tired  of  the  job." 

"The  ground  dips  here.  Come,  we 
must  search  the  hollow.  You  must  earn 
your  reward,  M.  de  Roustache." 

The  lady  pressed  Dieppe's  arm.  "I 
can't  go  now,"  she  whispered. 

"  I  'm  willing  to  earn  it,  but  I  'd  like  to 
see  it." 

"  What 's  that  down  there  ? " 

"You  don't  attend  to  my  suggestion, 
M.  Sevier." 

"  Sevier !  "  muttered  the  Captain,  and  a 
smile  spread  over  his  face. 

"Call  me  Guillaume,"  came  sharply 
from  the  voice  he  had  first  heard. 

"Exactly,"  murmured  Dieppe.  "Call 
him  anything  except  his  name.  Oh,  ex- 
actly ! " 

"It  looks  like— like  a  building— a  shed 
or  something.  Come,  he  may  be  in 
there." 

"Oh!"  murmured  the  lady.  "You 
won't  let  them  in  ? n 

"They  sha'n't  see  you,"  Dieppe  reas- 
ill 


Captain  Dieppe 


sured  her.     "But  listen,  my  dear  friend, 
listen." 

"  Who  »s  the  other  ?    S6vier  ? » 

11 A  gentleman  who  takes  an  interest  in 
me.  But  silence,  pray,  silence,  if  you— if 
you  '11  be  guided  by  me." 

"  Let 's  go  down  and  try  the  door.  If 
he  's  not  there,  anyhow  we  can  shelter 
ourselves  till  he  turns  up." 

There  was  a  pause.  Feet  could  be 
heard  climbing  and  slithering  down  the 
slippery  grass  slope. 

"  What  if  you  find  it  locked  ? " 

"  Then  I  shall  think  some  one  is  inside, 
and  some  one  who  has  discovered  reasons 
for  not  wishing  to  be  met." 

"  And  what  will  you  do  ? "  The  voices 
were  very  near  now,  and  Paul's  discon- 
tented sneer  made  the  Captain  smile ;  but 
his  hand  sought  the  pocket  where  his  re- 
volver lay. 

"  I  shall  break  it  open— with  your  help, 
my  friend." 

"  I  give  no  more  help,  friend  SeVier— 
or  Guillaume,  or  what  you  like— till  I  see 

112 


The  Hut  in  the  Hollow 


my  money.  Deuce  take  it,  the  fellow 
may  be  armed !  " 

"  I  did  n't  engage  you  for  a  picnic,  Mon- 
sieur Paul." 

"  It 's  the  pay,  not  the  work,  that 's  in 
dispute,  my  friend.  Come,  you  have  the 
money,  I  suppose  ?  Out  with  it !  " 

"  Not  a  sou  till  I  have  the  papers !  " 

The  Captain  nodded  his  head.  "  I  was 
right,  as  usual,"  he  was  thinking  to  him- 
self, as  he  felt  his  breast-pocket  caress- 
ingly. 

The  wind  rose  to  a  gust  and  howled. 
The  voices  became  inaudible.  The  Cap- 
tain bent  down  and  whispered. 

"  If  they  force  the  door  open,"  he  said, 
"  or  if  I  have  to  open  it  and  go  out,  you  'd 
do  well  to  get  behind  that  straw  there  till 
you  see  what  happens.  They  expect  no- 
body but  me,  and  when  they  Ve  seen  me 
they  won't  search  any  more." 

He  saw,  with  approval  and  admiration, 
that  she  was  calm  and  cool. 

"Is  there  danger?"  she  asked. 

"No,"   said  he.     "But   one  of  them 

113 


Captain  Dieppe 

wants  some  papers  I  have,  and  has  ap- 
parently engaged  the  other  to  assist  him. 
M.  de  Roustache  feels  equal  to  two  jobs, 
it  seems.  I  wonder  if  he  knows  whom 
he  's  after,  though." 

"  Would  they  take  the  papers  by  force  ? " 
Her  voice  was  very  anxious,  but  still  not 
terrified. 

"  Very  likely —if  I  won't  part  with  them. 
Don't  be  uneasy.  I  sha'n't  forget  your 
affair." 

She  pressed  his  arm  gratefully,  and 
drew  back  till  she  stood  close  to  the 
trusses  of  straw,  ready  to  seek  a  hiding- 
place  in  case  of  need.  She  was  not  much 
too  soon.  A  man  hurled  himself  violently 
against  the  door.  The  upper  part  gave 
and  gaped  an  inch  or  two ;  the  lower  stood 
firm,  thanks  to  the  block  of  wood  that 
barred  its  opening.  Even  as  the  assault 
was  delivered  against  the  door,  Dieppe 
had  blown  out  the  candle.  In  darkness 
he  and  she  stood  waiting  and  listening. 

"Lend  a  hand.     We  shall  do  it  to- 
gether," cried  the  voice  of  M.  Guillaume. 
114 


The  Hut  in  the  Hollow 


"  I  '11  be  hanged  if  I  move  without  five 
thousand  francs ! " 

Dieppe  put  up  both  hands  and  leant 
with  all  his  weight  against  the  upper  part 
of  the  door.  He  smiled  at  his  prescience 
when  Guillaume  flung  himself  against  it 
once  more.  Now  there  was  no  yielding, 
no  opening— not  a  chink.  Guillaume 
was  convinced. 

"  Curse  you,  you  shall  have  the  money," 
they  heard  him  say.  "  Come,  hold  the 
lantern  here." 


115 


CHAPTER  VII 

THE  FLOOD  ON  THE  RIVER 

That  Paul  de  Roustache  came  to  the 
rendezvous,  where  he  had  agreed  to  meet 
the  Count,  in  the  company  and  apparently 
in  the  service  of  M.  Guillaume,  who  was 
not  at  all  concerned  with  the  Count  but 
very  much  interested  in  the  ;nan  who  had 
borrowed  his  name,  afforded  tolerably 
conclusive  evidence  that  Paul  had  been 
undeceived,  and  that  if  either  party  had 
been  duped  in  regard  to  the  meeting  it 
was  Captain  Dieppe.  Never  very  ready 
to  adopt  such  a  conclusion  as  this,  Dieppe 
was  none  the  less  forced  to  it  by  the  pres- 
sure of  facts.  Moreover  he  did  not  per- 
ceive any  safe,  far  less  any  glorious,  issue 
from  the  situation  either  for  his  compan- 
ion or  for  himself.  His  honour  was 
116 


The  Flood  on  the  River 


doubly  involved ;  the  Countess's  reputa- 
tion and  the  contents  of  his  breast-pocket 
alike  were  in  his  sole  care ;  and  just  out- 
side the  hut  were  two  rascals,  plainly 
resolute,  no  less  plainly  unscrupulous,  the 
one  threatening  the  lady,  the  other  with 
nefarious  designs  against  the  breast- 
pocket. They  had  joined  hands,  and  now 
delivered  a  united  attack  against  both  of 
the  Captain's  treasured  trusts.  "  In  point 
of  fact,"  he  reflected  with  some  chagrin, 
"I  have  for  this  once  failed  to  control 
events."  He  brightened  up  almost  imme- 
diately. "  Never  mind,"  he  thought,  "  it 
may  still  be  possible  to  take  advantage  of 
them."  And  he  waited,  all  on  the  alert 
for  his  chance.  His  companion  observed, 
with  a  little  vexation,  with  more  admira- 
tion, that  he  seemed  to  have  become  un- 
conscious of  her  presence,  or,  at  best,  to 
consider  her  only  as  a  responsibility. 

The  besiegers  spoke  no  more  in  tones 

audible  within  the  hut.  Putting  eye  and 

ear  alternately   to  the  crevice  between 

door  and  door-post,  Dieppe  saw  the  lan- 

117 


Captain  Dieppe 

tern's  light  and  heard  the  crackle  of  paper. 
Then  he  just  caught,  or  seemed  to  catch, 
the  one  word,  said  in  a  tone  of  finality, 
"  Five  ! "  Then  came  more  crackling. 
Next  a  strange,  sudden  circle  of  light  re- 
volved before  the  Captain's  eye ;  and  then 
there  was  light  no  more.  The  lantern  had 
been  lifted,  swung  round  in  the  air,  and 
flung  away.  Swift  to  draw  the  only  in- 
ference, Dieppe  turned  his  head.  As  he 
did  so  there  rang  out  a  loud  oath  in  Guil- 
laume's  voice ;  it  was  followed  by  an  odd, 
dull  thud. 

"  Quick,  behind  the  trusses ! "  whispered 
Dieppe.  "  I  'm  going  out." 

Without  a  word  she  obeyed  him,  and  in 
a  moment  was  well  hidden.  For  an  in- 
stant more  Dieppe  listened.  Then  he 
hurled  the  wooden  block  away ;  its  weight, 
so  great  before,  seemed  nothing  to  him 
now  in  his  excitement.  The  crack  of  a 
shot  came  from  outside.  Pulling  the  door 
violently  back,  Dieppe  rushed  out.  Two 
or  three  paces  up  the  slope  stood  Guil. 
laume,  his  back  to  the  hut,  his  arm  still 
118 


The  Flood  on  the  River 


levelled  at  a  figure  which  had  just  topped 
the  summit  of  the  eminence,  and  an  in- 
stant later  disappeared.  Hearing  Dieppe's 
rush,  Guillaume  turned,  crying  in  uncon- 
trollable agitation,  "He  's  robbed  me, 
robbed  me,  robbed  me ! "  Then  he  sud- 
denly put  both  his  hands  up  to  his  brow, 
clutching  it  tight  as  though  he  were  in 
great  pain,  and,  reeling  and  stumbling,  at 
last  fell  and  rolled  down  to  the  bottom  of 
the  hollow.  For  an  instant  the  Captain 
hesitated.  But  Guillaume  lay  very  still; 
and  Guillaume  had  no  quarrel  with  the 
Countess.  His  indecision  soon  ended, 
Dieppe  ran,  as  if  for  his  life,  up  the  slope 
to  the  top  of  the  hill.  He  disappeared ; 
all  was  left  dark  and  quiet  at  the  hut; 
Guillaume  did  not  stir,  the  lady  did  not 
stir ;  only  the  door,  released  from  its  con- 
finement, began  to  flap  idly  to  and  fro 
again. 

The  Captain  gained  the  summit,  hardly 
conscious  that  one  of  those  sudden  changes 
of  weather  so  common  in  hilly  countries 
had  passed  over  the  landscape.  The  mist 

119 


Captain  Dieppe 

was  gone,  rain  fell  no  more,  a  sharp,  clean 
breeze  blew,  the  stars  began  to  shine,  and 
the  moon  rose  bright.  It  was  as  though 
a  curtain  had  been  lifted.  Dieppe's  topo- 
graphical observations  stood  him  in  good 
stead  now  and  saved  him  some  moments' 
consideration.  The  fugitive  had  choice 
of  two  routes.  But  he  would  not  return 
to  the  village :  he  might  have  to  answer 
awkward  questions  about  M.  Guillaume, 
his  late  companion,  there.  He  would 
make  in  another  direction— presumably 
towards  the  nearest  inhabited  spot,  where 
he  could  look  to  get  more  rapid  means  of 
escape  than  his  own  legs  afforded.  He 
would  follow  the  road  to  the  left  then, 
down  the  zigzags  that  must  lead  to  the 
river,  and  to  some  means  of  crossing  it. 
But  he  had  gained  a  good  start  and  had 
the  figure  of  an  active  fellow.  Dieppe 
risked  a  short  cut,  darted  past  the  Cross 
and  straight  over  the  road,  heading  down 
towards  the  river,  but  taking  a  diagonal 
course  to  the  left.  His  intent  was  to  hit 
the  road  where  the  road  hit  the  river,  and 

120 


The  Flood  on  the  River 


thus  to  cut  off  the  man  he  pursued.  His 
way  would  be  shorter,  but  it  would  be 
rougher  too ;  success  or  failure  depended 
on  whether  the  advantage  or  disadvan- 
tage proved  the  greater.  As  he  ran,  he 
felt  for  his  revolver ;  but  he  did  not  take 
it  out  nor  did  he  mean  to  use  it  save  in 
the  last  resort.  Captain  Dieppe  did  not 
take  life  or  maim  limb  without  the  utmost 
need ;  though  a  man  of  war,  he  did  not 
suffer  from  blood  fever.  Besides  he  was 
a  stranger  in  the  country,  with  none  to 
answer  for  him ;  and  the  credentials  in 
his  breast-pocket  were  not  of  the  sort  that 
he  desired  to  produce  for  the  satisfaction 
and  information  of  the  local  custodians 
of  the  peace. 

The  grassy  slope  was  both  uneven  and 
slippery.  Moreover  Dieppe  had  not  al- 
lowed enough  for  the  courage  of  the  na- 
tives in  the  matter  of  gradients.  The 
road,  in  fact,  belied  its  cautious  appear- 
ance. After  three  or  four  plausible  zig- 
zags, it  turned  to  rash  courses  and  ran 
headlong  down  to  the  ford— true,  it  had 
121 


Captain  Dieppe 

excuse  in  the  necessity  of  striking  this 
spot— on  a  slope  hardly  less  steep  than 
that  down  which  the  Captain  himself  was 
painfully  leaping  with  heels  stuck  deep  in 
and  body  thrown  well  back.  In  the  re- 
sult Paul  de  Roustache  comfortably  main- 
tained his  lead,  and  when  he  came  into 
his  pursuer's  view  was  no  more  than 
twenty  yards  from  the  river,  the  Captain 
being  still  a  good  fifty  from  the  point  at 
which  he  had  hoped  to  be  stationed  be- 
fore Paul  came  up 

"I  'm  done,"  panted  the  Captain,  re- 
ferring both  to  his  chances  of  success  and 
to  his  physical  condition;  and  he  saw 
with  despair  that  across  the  ford  the 
road  rose  as  boldly  and  as  steeply  as  it 
had  descended  on  the  near  side  of  the 
stream. 

Paul  ran  on  and  came  to  the  edge  of 
the  ford.  Negotiations  might  be  feasible 
since  conquest  was  out  of  the  question : 
Dieppe  raised  his  voice  and  shouted. 
Paul  turned  and  looked.  "  I  'm  a  pretty 
long  shot,"  thought  the  Captain,  and  he 
122 


The  Flood  on  the  River 


thought  it  prudent  to  slacken  his  pace  till 
he  saw  in  what  spirit  his  overtures  were 
met.  Their  reception  was  not  encourag- 
ing. Paul  took  his  revolver  from  his 
pocket— the  Captain  saw  the  glint  of  the 
barrel— and  waved  it  menacingly.  Then 
he  replaced  it,  lifted  his  hat  jauntily  in  a 
mocking  farewell,  and  turned  to  the  ford 
again. 

"Shall  I  go  on?"  asked  the  Captain, 
"  or  shall  I  give  it  up  ? "  The  desperate 
thought  at  last  occurred:  "Shall  I  get 
as  near  as  I  can  and  try  to  wing  him  ? " 
He  stood  still  for  an  instant,  engaged  in 
these  considerations.  Suddenly  a  sound 
struck  his  ear  and  caught  his  attention. 
It  was  the  heavy,  swishing  noise  of  a  deep 
body  of  water  in  rapid  movement.  His 
eyes  flew  down  to  the  river. 

"  By  God ! "  he  muttered  under  his 
breath;  and  from  the  river  his  glance 
darted  to  Paul  de  Roustache.  The  land- 
lord of  the  inn  at  Sasellano  had  not 
spoken  without  warrant.  The  stream  ran 
high  in  flood,  and  Paul  de  Roustache  stood 
123 


Captain  Dieppe 

motionless  in  fear  and  doubt  on  the  thresh- 
old of  the  ford. 

"  I  Ve  got  him,"  remarked  the  Captain- 
simply,  and  he  began  to  pace  leisurely 
and  warily  down  the  hill.  He  was  ready 
for  a  shot  now — ready  to  give  one  too,  if 
necessary.  But  his  luck  was  again  in  the 
ascendant;  he  smiled  and  twirled  his 
moustache  as  he  walked  along. 

If  it  be  pardonable— or  even  praise- 
worthy, as  some  moralists  assert— to  pity 
the  criminal,  while  righteously  hating  the 
crime,  a  trifle  of  compassion  may  be 
spared  for  Paul  de  Roustache.  In  fact 
that  gentleman  had  a  few  hours  before 
arrived  at  a  resolution  which  must  be 
considered  (for  as  a  man  hath,  so  shall  it 
be  demanded  of  him,  in  talents  and  pre- 
sumably in  virtues  also)  distinctly  com- 
mendable. He  had  made  up  his  mind  to 
molest  the  Countess  of  Fieramondi  no 
more— provided  he  got  the  fifty  thousand 
francs  from  M.  Guillaume.  Up  to  this 
moment  fortune— or,  in  recognition  of 
the  morality  of  the  idea,  may  we  not 
124 


The  Flood  on  the  River 


say  heaven?— had  favoured  his  design. 
Obliged,  in  view  of  Paul's  urgently  ex- 
pressed preference  for  a  payment  on 
account,  to  disburse  five  thousand  francs, 
Guillaume  had  taken  from  his  pocket  a 
leather  case  of  venerable  age  and  opulent 
appearance.  Paul  was  no  more  averse 
than  Dieppe  from  taking  a  good  chance. 
The  production  of  the  portfolio  was  the 
signal  for  a  rapid  series  of  decisive  ac- 
tions ;  for  was  not  Dieppe  inside  the  hut, 
and  might  not  Dieppe  share  or  even  en- 
gross the  contents  of  the  portfolio  ?  With 
the  promptness  of  a  man  who  has  thor- 
oughly thought  out  his  plans,  Paul  had 
flung  away  the  lantern,  hit  Guillaume  on 
the  forehead  with  the  butt  of  his  revolver, 
snatched  the  portfolio  from  his  hand,  and 
bolted  up  the  slope  that  led  from  the  hut 
to  the  summit;  thence  he  ran  down  the 
road,  not  enjoying  leisure  to  examine  his 
prize,  but  sure  that  it  contained  more  than 
the  bare  ten  thousand  francs  for  which  he 
had  modestly  bargained.  A  hum  ane  man, 
he  reflected,  would  stay  by  Guillaume, 
125 


Captain  Dieppe 

bathe  his  brow,  and  nurse  him  back  to 
health;  for  with  a  humane  man  life  is 
more  than  property ;  and  meanwhile  the 
property,  with  Paul  as  its  protector,  would 
be  far  away.  But  now — well,  in  the  first 
place,  Dieppe  was  evidently  not  a  humane 
man,  and  in  the  second,  here  was  this  pes- 
tilent river  flooded  to  the  edge  of  its 
banks,  and  presenting  the  most  doubtful 
passage  which  had  ever  by  the  mockery 
of  language  been  misnamed  a  ford.  He 
was  indeed  between  the  devil  and  the  deep 
sea— that  devil  of  a  Dieppe  and  the  deep 
sea  of  the  ford  on  the  road  from  Sasellano. 
What  was  to  be  done  ? 

The  days  of  chivalry  are  gone ;  and  the 
days  of  hanging  or  beheading  for  unne- 
cessary or  unjustified  homicide  are  with 
us,  to  the  great  detriment  of  romance. 
Paul,  like  the  Captain,  did  not  desire  a 
duel,  although,  like  the  Captain,  he  pro- 
posed to  keep  his  revolver  handy.  And, 
after  all,  what  was  called  a  ford  must  be 
at  least  comparatively  shallow.  Give  it 
a  foot  of  depth  in  ordinary  times.  Let 
126 


The  Flood  on  the  River 


it  be  three  or  four  now.  Still  he  could  get 
across.  With  one  last  look  at  the  Cap- 
tain, who  advanced  steadily,  although 
very  slowly,  Paul  de  Roustache  essayed  the 
passage.  The  precious  portfolio  was  in 
an  inner  pocket,  the  hardly  less  precious 
revolver  he  grasped  in  one  hand;  and 
both  his  hands  he  held  half  outstretched 
on  either  side  of  him.  The  Captain 
watched  his  progress  with  the  keenest 
interest  and  a  generous  admiration,  and 
quickened  his  own  pace  so  as  to  be  in  a 
position  to  follow  the  daring  pioneer  as 
rapidly  as  possible. 

As  far  as  depth  was  concerned,  Paul's 
calculation  was  not  far  out.  He  travelled 
a  third  of  his  way  and  felt  the  ground 
level  under  him.  He  had  reached  the 
bottom  of  the  river-bed,  and  the  water 
was  not  up  to  his  armpits.  He  took  out 
the  portfolio  and  thrust  it  in  between  his 
neck  and  his  collar :  it  gave  him  a  con- 
fined and  choky  feeling,  but  it  was  well 
out  of  water ;  and  his  right  hand  held  the 
revolver  well  out  of  water  too.  Thus 
127 


Captain  Dieppe 

prepared,  yet  hoping  that  the  worst  was 
over,  he  took  another  forward  step. 
Breaking  into  a  run,  the  Captain  was  by 
the  edge  of  the  stream  the  next  moment, 
whipped  out  his  revolver,  pointed  it  at 
Paul,  and  cried,  "  Stop  !  "  For  although 
one  does  not  mean  to  fire,  it  is  often 
useful  to  create  the  impression  that  one 
does. 

The  action  had  its  effect  now,  although 
not  exactly  as  Dieppe  had  anticipated. 
Flurried  by  his  double  difficulty,  Paul 
stopped  again  and  glanced  over  his 
shoulder.  He  saw  the  barrel  aimed  at 
him ;  he  could  not  risk  disregarding  the 
command,  but  he  might  forestall  his  pur- 
suer's apparent  intention.  He  tried  to 
turn  round,  and  effected  half  the  revolu- 
tion; thus  he  faced  down-stream,  and 
had  his  back  to  the  full  force  of  the  cur- 
rent. Although  no  deeper  than  he  had 
feared,  the  river  was  stronger ;  and  in 
this  attitude  he  offered  a  less  firm  resist- 
ance. In  an  instant  he  was  swept  off  his 
feet,  and  carried  headlong  down-stream, 
128 


The  Flood  on  the  River 


dropping  his  revolver  and  struggling  to 
swim  to  the  opposite  bank. 

"  I  can't  afford  to  have  this  happen ! " 
cried  Dieppe,  and,  seeing  how  the  current 
bore  his  enemy  away,  he  ran  swiftly  some 
fifty  yards  down  the  bank,  got  ahead  of 
Paul,  and  plunged  in,  again  with  the  idea 
of  cutting  him  off,  but  by  water  this  time, 
since  his  plan  had  failed  on  land. 

Here  it  is  likely  enough  that  the  two 
gentlemen's  difficulties  and  activities  alike 
would  have  ended.  Paul  went  under  and 
came  up  again,  a  tangled,  helpless  heap  of 
legs  and  arms ;  the  Captain  kept  his  head 
above  water  for  the  time,  but  could  do 
nothing  save  follow  the  current  which 
carried  him  straight  down-stream.  But 
by  good  luck  the  river  took  a  sharp  bend 
a  hundred  yards  below  the  ford,  and 
Dieppe  perceived  that  by  drifting  he 
would  come  very  near  to  the  projecting 
curve  of  the  bank.  Paul  was  past  noti- 
cing this  chance  or  trying  to  avail  himself 
of  it.  The  Captain  was  swept  down ;  at 
the  right  instant  he  made  the  one  effort 
129 


Captain  Dieppe 

for  which  he  had  husbanded  his  strength. 
He  gathered  his  legs  up  under  him,  and 
he  stood.  The  water  was  only  half-way 
up  his  thigh,  and  he  stood.  "Now  for 
you,  my  friend ! "  he  cried.  Paul  came 
by,  quite  inanimate  now  to  all  appearance, 
floating  broadside  to  the  current.  Lean- 
ing forward,  the  Captain  caught  him  by 
the  leg,  throwing  his  own  body  back  in 
an  intense  strain  of  exertion.  He  lost 
his  footing  and  fell.  "I  must  let  him 
go,"  he  thought,  "or  we  shall  both  be 
done  for."  But  the  next  moment  he  felt 
himself  flung  on  the  bank,  and  the  tension 
on  his  arms  relaxed.  The  current  had 
thrown  the  two  on  the  bank  and  pursued 
its  own  race  round  the  promontory,  be- 
reft of  its  playthings.  Drenched,  hud- 
dled, hatless,  they  lay  there. 

"A  very  near  thing  indeed,"  said  the 
Captain,  panting  hard  and  regarding 
Paul's  motionless  body  with  a  grave  and 
critical  air  of  inquiry.  The  next  moment 
he  fell  on  his  knees  by  his  companion. 
"Perhaps  he  carries  a  flask— I  've  none," 

130 


The  Flood  on  the  River 


he  thought,  and  began  to  search  Paul's 
pockets.  He  found  what  he  sought  and 
proceeded  to  unscrew  the  top. 

Paul  gasped  and  grunted.  "  He  's  all 
right  then,"  said  the  Captain.  Paul's  hand 
groped  its  way  up  to  his  collar,  and  made 
convulsive  clutches.  "  I  'd  better  give 
him  a  little  more  room,"  mused  Dieppe, 
and  laid  the  flask  down  for  a  minute. 
"  Ah,  this  is  a  queer  cravat !  No  wonder 
he  feels  like  choking.  A  portfolio !  Ah, 
ah ! "  He  took  it  out  and  pocketed  it. 
Then  he  forced  some  brandy  down  Paul's 
throat,  and  undid  his  collar  and  his  waist- 
coat. "  A  pocket  inside  the  waistcoat ! 
Very  useful,  very  useful — and  more  pa- 
pers, yes !  Take  a  drop,  my  friend,  it  will 
do  you  good."  Thus  alternately  minister- 
ing to  Paul's  bodily  comfort  and  rifling 
his  person  of  what  valuables  he  carried, 
Dieppe  offered  to  the  philosophic  mind  a 
singular  resemblance  to  a  Finance  Minis- 
ter who  takes  a  farthing  off  the  duty  on 
beer  and  puts  a  penny  on  the  income  tax. 

The  moon  was  high,  but  not  bright 
131 


Captain  Dieppe 

enough  to  read  a  small  and  delicate  hand- 
writing by.  The  Captain  found  himself 
in  a  tantalising  position.  He  gave  Paul 
some  more  brandy,  laid  down  the  packet 
of  letters,  and  turned  to  the  portfolio.  It 
was  large  and  official  in  appearance,  and 
it  had  an  ingenious  clasp  which  baffled 
Dieppe.  With  a  sigh  he  cut  the  leather 
top  and  bottom,  and  examined  the  prize. 

"  Ah,  my  dear  Banque  de  France,  even 
in  this  light  I  can  recognise  your  charm- 
ing, allegorical  figures,"  he  said  with  a 
smile.  There  were  thirty  notes— he 
counted  them  twice,  for  they  were  moist 
and  very  sticky.  There  was  another 
paper.  "This  must  be—"  He  rose  to 
his  feet  and  held  the  paper  up  towards 
the  moon.  "I  can't  read  the  writing," 
he  murmured,  "  but  I  can  see  the  figures 
—30,000.  Ah,  and  that  is  '  Genoa  M 
Now  to  whom  is  it  payable,  I  wonder ! " 

"What  the  devil  are  you  doing?" 
growled  Paul,  sitting  up  with  a  shiver. 

"  My  friend,  I  have  saved  your  life," 
observed  the  Captain,  impressively. 

132 


The  Flood  on  the  River 


"  That  's  no  reason  for  robbing  me," 
was  Paul's  ungrateful  but  logically  sound 
reply. 

The  Captain  stooped  and  picked  up  the 
bundle  of  letters.  Separating  them  one 
from  another,  he  tore  them  into  small 
fragments  and  scattered  them  over  the 
stream.  Paul  watched  him,  sullen  but 
without  resistance.  Dieppe  turned  to  him. 

"You  have  no  possible  claim  against 
the  Countess,"  he  remarked ;  "  no  possible 
hold  on  her,  Monsieur  de  Roustache." 

Paul  finished  the  flask  for  himself  this 
time,  shivered  again,  and  swore  pitifully. 
He  was  half-crying  and  cowed.  "  Curse 
the  whole  business ! "  he  said.  "  But  she 
had  twenty  thousand  francs  of  my 
money." 

The  Captain  addressed  to  him  a  ques- 
tion somewhat  odd  under  the  circum- 
stances. 

"On  your  honour  as  a  gentleman,  is 
that  true  ? "  he  asked. 

"  Yes,  it's  true,"  said  Paul,  with  a  glare 
of  suspicion.  He  was  not  in  the  mood  to 
133 


Captain  Dieppe 

appreciate  satire  or  banter ;  but  the  Cap- 
tain appeared  quite  grave  and  his  manner 
was  courteous. 

"  It's  beastly  cold,"  Paul  continued  with 
a  groan. 

"  In  a  moment  you  shall  take  a  run," 
the  Captain  promised.  And  he  pursued, 
"  The  Countess  must  not  be  in  your  debt. 
Permit  me  to  discharge  the  obligation." 
He  counted  twenty  of  the  thirty  notes 
and  held  them  out  to  Paul.  After  an- 
other stare  Paul  laughed  feebly. 

"I  am  doing  our  friend  M.  Guillaume 
no  wrong,"  the  Captain  explained.  "  His 
employers  have  in  their  possession  fifty 
thousand  francs  of  mine.  I  avail  myself 
of  this  opportunity  to  reduce  the  balance 
to  their  debit.  As  between  M.  Guillaume 
and  me,  that  is  all.  As  between  you  and 
me,  sir,  I  act  for  the  Countess.  I  pay 
your  claim  at  your  own  figures,  and  since 
I  discharge  the  claim  I  have  made  free  to 
destroy  the  evidence.  I  have  thrown  the 
letters  into  the  river.  I  do  not  wish  to 
threaten,  but  if  you  're  not  out  of  sight 

134 


The  Flood  on  the  River 


in  ten  minutes,  I  '11  throw  you  after 
them.'' 

"If  I  told  you  all  the  story — "began 
Paul  with  a  sneer. 

"  I  'm  not  accustomed  to  listen  to  stories 
against  ladies,  sir,"  thundered  the  Cap- 
tain. 

"  She  's  had  my  money  for  a  year — " 

"  The  Countess  would  wish  to  be  most 
liberal,  but  she  did  not  understand  that 
you  regarded  the  transaction  as  a  com- 
mercial one."  He  counted  five  more 
notes  and  handed  them  to  Paul  with  an 
air  of  careless  liberality. 

Paul  broke  into  a  grudging  laugh. 

"  What  are  you  going  to  tell  old  Guil- 
laume  ? "  he  asked. 

"  I  'm  going  to  tell  him  that  my  claim 
against  his  employers  is  reduced  by  the 
amount  that  I  have  had  the  honour  to 
hand  you,  M.  de  Roustache.  Pardon  me, 
but  you  seem  to  forget  the  remark  I  per- 
mitted myself  to  make  just  now."  And 
the  Captain  pointed  to  the  river. 

Paul  rose  and  stamped  his  feet  on  the 
135 


Captain  Dieppe 


ground;  he  looked  at  his  companion, 
and  his  surprise  burst  out  in  the  ques- 
tion, "You  really  mean  to  let  me  go 
with  five  and  twenty  thousand  francs  ? " 

"I  act  as  I  am  sure  the  lady  whose 
name  has  been  unavoidably  mentioned 
would  wish  to  act." 

Paul  stared  again,  then  sniggered 
again,  and  pocketed  his  spoil. 

"Only  you  must  understand  that— 
that  the  mine  is  worked  out,  my  friend. 
I  think  your  way  lies  there."  He  pointed 
towards  the  road  that  led  up  from  the 
ford  to  Sasellano. 

Still  Paul  lingered,  seeming  to  wish  to 
say  something  that  he  found  difficult  to 
phrase. 

"  I  was  devilish  hard  up,"  he  muttered 
at  last. 

"That  is  always  a  temptation,"  said 
the  Captain,  gravely. 

"A  fellow  does  things  that— that  look 
queer.  I  say,  would  n't  that  odd  five 
thousand  come  in  handy  for  yourself  ? " 

The  Captain  looked  at  him ;  almost  he 
136 


The  Flood  on  the  River 


refused  the  unexpected  offer  scornfully; 
but  something  in  Paul's  manner  made 
him  cry,  quite  suddenly,  almost  uncon- 
sciously, "  Why,  my  dear  fellow,  if  you 
put  it  that  way— yes !  As  a  loan  from 
you  to  me,  eh  ? " 

"  A  loan?    No-I-I-" 

"Be  at  ease.  Loan  is  the  term  we 
use  between  gentlemen — eh  ? "  The  Cap- 
tain tried  to  curl  his  moist,  uncurlable 
moustache. 

And  Paul  de  Roustache  handed  him 
back  five  thousand  francs. 

"  My  dear  fellow !  "  murmured  the 
Captain,  as  he  stowed  the  notes  in 
safety.  He  held  out  his  hand;  Paul  de 
Roustache  shook  it  and  turned  away. 
Dieppe  stood  watching  him  as  he  went, 
making  not  direct  for  the  Sasellano  road, 
but  shaping  a  course  straight  up  the 
hill,  walking  as  though  he  hardly  knew 
where  he  was  going.  So  he  passed  out 
of  the  Captain's  sight— and  out  of  the 
list  of  the  Countess  of  Fieramondi's 
creditors. 

137 


Captain  Dieppe 


A  little  smile  dwelt  for  a  moment  on 
Dieppe's  face. 

"I  myself  am  very  nearly  a  rascal 
sometimes,"  said  he. 

Crack !  crack !  The  sound  of  a  whip 
rang  clear;  the  clatter  of  hoofs  and  the 
grind  of  a  wheel  on  the  skid  followed. 
A  carriage  dashed  down  the  hill  from 
Sasellano.  Paul  de  Roustache  had  seen 
it,  and  stooped  low  for  a  moment  in  in- 
stinctive fear  of  being  seen.  Captain 
Dieppe,  on  the  other  hand,  cried 
"  Bravo ! n  and  began  to  walk  briskly 
towards  the  ford.  "  How  very  lucky !  " 
he  reflected.  "  I  will  beg  a  passage ;  I 
have  no  fancy  for  another  bath  to- 
night." 


138 


CHAPTER   VIH 

THE  CARRIAGE  AT  THE  FORD 

The  direct  issue  between  her  Excel- 
lency and  the  innkeeper  at  Sasellano 
had  ended  as  all  such  differences  (save, 
of  course,  on  points  of  morality)  should 
—in  a  compromise.  The  lady  would  not 
resign  herself  to  staying  at  Sasellano ; 
the  landlord  would  not  engage  to  risk 
passenger,  carriage,  and  horses  in  the 
flood.  But  he  found  and  she  accepted 
the  services  of  a  robust,  stout-built  fel- 
low who  engaged  with  the  lady  to  drive 
her  as  far  as  the  river  and  across  it  if 
possible,  and  promised  the  landlord  to 
bring  her  and  the  equipage  back  in  case 
the  crossing  were  too  dangerous.  Neither 
party  was  pleased,  but  both  consented, 
hoping  to  retrieve  a  temporary  conces- 
139 


Captain  Dieppe 


sion  by  ultimate  victory.  Moreover  the 
lady  paid  the  whole  fare  beforehand— 
not,  the  landlord  precisely  stipulated,  to 
be  returned  in  any  event.  So  off  her 
Excellency  rattled  in  the  wind  and  rain ; 
and  great  was  her  triumph  when  the  rain 
ceased,  the  wind  fell,  and  the  night 
cleared.  She  put  her  head  out  of  the 
rackety  old  landau,  whose  dilapidated 
hood  had  formed  a  shelter  by  no  means 
water-tight,  and  cried,  "  Who  was  right, 
driver?"  But  the  driver  turned  his 
black  cigar  between  his  teeth,  answering, 
"The  mischief  is  done  already.  Well, 
we  shall  see !  " 

They  covered  eight  miles  in  good  time. 
They  passed  Paul  de  Roustache,  who  had 
no  thought  but  to  avoid  them,  and,  once 
they  were  passed,  took  to  the  road  and 
made  off  straight  for  Sasellano ;  they 
reached  the  descent  and  trotted  gaily 
down  it ;  they  came  within  ten  yards  of 
the  ford,  and  drew  up  sharply.  The 
lady  put  her  head  out;  the  driver  dis- 
mounted and  took  a  look  at  the  river. 

140 


The  Carriage  at  the  Ford 


Shaking  his  head,  he  came  to  the  win- 
dow. 

"  Your  Excellency  can't  cross  to-night," 
said  he. 

"  I  will,"  cried  the  lady,  no  less  resolute 
now  than  she  had  been  at  the  inn. 

The  direct  issue  again !  And  if  the 
driver  were  as  obstinate  as  he  looked, 
the  chances  of  that  ultimate  victory  in- 
clined to  the  innkeeper's  side. 

"The  water  would  be  inside  the  car- 
riage," he  urged. 

"  I  '11  ride  on  the  box  by  you,"  she  re- 
joined. 

"  It  '11  be  up  to  the  horses'  shoulders." 

"  The  horses  don't  mind  getting  wet,  I 
suppose." 

"  They  'd  be  carried  off  their  feet." 

"  Nonsense,"  said  she,  sharply,  denying 
the  fact  since  she  could  no  longer  pooh- 
pooh  its  significance.  "Are  you  a  cow- 
ard ? "  she  exclaimed  indignantly. 

"I  Ve  got  some  sense  in  my  head," 
said  he  with  a  grin. 

At  this  moment  Captain  Dieppe,  wish- 

141 


Captain  Dieppe 

ing  that  he  were  dry,  that  he  had  a  hat, 
that  his  moustache  would  curl,  yet  rising 
victorious  over  all  disadvantages  by  vir- 
tue of  his  temperament  and  breeding, 
concealing  also  any  personal  interest 
that  he  had  in  the  settlement  of  the  ques- 
tion, approached  the  carriage,  bowed  to 
its  occupant,  and  inquired,  with  the  ut- 
most courtesy,  whether  he  could  be  of 
any  service. 

"It  's  of  great  importance  to  me  to 
cross,"  said  she,  returning  his  salutation. 

"  It  's  impossible  to  cross,"  interposed 
the  driver. 

"  Nonsense ;  I  have  crossed  myself,"  re- 
marked Captain  Dieppe. 

Both  of  them  looked  at  him ;  he  antici- 
pated their  questions  or  objections. 

"Crossing  on  foot  one  naturally  gets 
a  little  wet,"  said  he,  smiling. 

"  I  won't  let  my  horses  cross,"  declared 
the  driver.  The  Captain  eyed  him  with 
a  slightly  threatening  expression,  but  he 
did  not  like  to  quarrel  before  a  lady. 

"You  're  afraid  for  your  own  skin,"  he 
142 


The  Carriage  at  the  Ford 


said  contemptuously.  "Stay  this  side. 
I  '11  bring  the  carriage  hack  to  you."  He 
felt  in  his  pocket  and  discovered  two 
louis  and  two  five-franc  pieces.  He 
handed  the  former  coins  to  the  driver. 
"I  take  all  the  responsibility  to  your 
master,"  he  ended,  and  opening  the  car- 
riage door  he  invited  the  lady  to  alight. 

She  was  dark,  tall,  handsome,  a  woman 
of  presence  and  of  dignity.  She  took 
his  hand  and  descended  with  much 
grace. 

"  I  am  greatly  in  your  debt,  sir,"  she 
said. 

"Ladies,  madame,"  he  replied  with  a 
tentative  advance  of  his  hand  toward  his 
moustache,  checked  in  time  by  a  remem- 
brance of  the  circumstances,  "  confer  ob- 
ligations often,  but  can  contract  none." 

"  I  wish  everybody  thought  as  you  do," 
said  she  with  a  deep  sigh. 

"  Shall  I  mount  the  box?" 

"If  you  please."  He  mounted  after 
her,  and  took  the  reins.  Cracking  the 
whip,  he  urged  on  the  horses. 

143 


Captain  Dieppe 


"  Body  of  the  saints,"  cried  the  driver, 
stirred  to  emulation,  "I  '11  come  with 
you !  "  and  he  leaped  up  on  to  the  top  of 
a  travelling-trunk  that  was  strapped  be- 
hind the  carriage. 

"  There  is  more  good  in  human  nature 
than  one  is  apt  to  think,"  observed  the 
Captain. 

"If  only  one  knows  how  to  appeal  to 
it,"  added  the  lady,  sighing  again  very 
pathetically. 

Somehow,  the  Captain  received  the  idea 
that  she  was  in  trouble.  He  felt  drawn 
to  her,  and  not  only  by  the  sympathy 
which  her  courage  and  her  apparent  dis- 
tress excited ;  he  was  conscious  of  some 
appeal,  something  in  her  which  seemed 
to  touch  him  directly  and  with  a  sort  of 
familiarity,  although  he  had  certainly 
never  seen  her  in  his  life  before.  He 
was  pondering  on  this  when  one  of  the 
horses,  frightened  by  the  noise  and  rush 
of  the  water,  reared  up,  while  the  other 
made  a  violent  effort  to  turn  itself,  its 
comrade,  and  the  carriage  round,  and 

144 


The  Carriage  at  the  Ford 


head  back  again  for  Sasellano.  The  Cap- 
tain sprang  up,  shouted,  plied  the  whip ; 
the  driver  stood  on  the  trunk  and  yelled 
yet  more  vigorously;  her  Excellency 
clutched  the  rail  with  her  hand.  And 
in  they  went. 

"  The  peculiarity  of  this  stream,"  began 
the  Captain,  "lies  not  so  much  in  its 
depth  as  in—" 

"The  strength  of  the  current,"  inter- 
posed his  companion,  nodding. 

"  You  know  it  ? "  he  cried. 

"Very  well,"  she  answered,  and  she 
might  have  said  more  had  not  the  horses 
at  this  moment  chosen  to  follow  the  eas- 
iest route,  and  headed  directly  down- 
stream. A  shriek  from  the  driver 
awoke  Dieppe  to  the  peril  of  the  posi- 
tion. He  plied  his  whip  again,  and  did 
his  best  to  turn  the  animals'  heads  to- 
wards the  opposite  bank.  The  driver 
showed  his  opinion  of  the  situation  by 
climbing  on  to  the  top  of  the  landau. 

This  step  was  perhaps  a  natural,  but 
it  was  not  a  wise  one.  The  roof  was  not 
145 


Captain  Dieppe 

adapted  to  carrying  heavy  weights.  It 
gave  way  on  one  side,  and  in  an  instant 
the  driver  rolled  over  to  the  right  and 
fell  with  a  mighty  splash  into  the  water 
just  above  the  carriage.  At  the  same 
moment  Dieppe  contrived  to  turn  the 
horses  in  the  direction  he  aimed  at,  and 
the  carriage  moved  a  few  paces. 

"  Ah,  we  move ! "  he  exclaimed  tri- 
umphantly. 

"  The  driver  's  fallen  off ! "  cried  the 
lady  in  alarm. 

"I  thought  we  seemed  lighter,  some- 
how," said  Dieppe,  paying  no  heed  to  the 
driver's  terrified  shouts,  but  still  urging  on 
his  horses.  He  showed  at  this  moment 
something  of  a  soldier's  recognition  that, 
if  necessary,  life  must  be  sacrificed  for  vic- 
tory :  he  had  taken  the  same  view  when 
he  left  M.  Guillaume  in  order  to  pursue 
Paul  de  Roustache. 

The  driver,  finding  cries  useless,  saw 

that   he   must   shift   for  himself.     The 

wheel  helped  him  to  rise  to  his  feet ;  he 

found  he  could  stand.     In  a  quick  turn 

146 


The  Carriage  at  the  Ford 


of  feeling,  he  called,  "  Courage !  "  Dieppe 
looked  over  at  him  with  a  rather  con- 
temptuous smile. 

"  What,  have  you  found  some  down  at 
the  bottom  of  the  river?  Like  truth  in 
the  well?"  he  asked.  "Catch  hold  of 
one  of  the  horses,  then  !  "  He  turned  to 
the  lady.  "  You  drive,  madame  ? " 

"  Yes." 

"  Then  do  me  the  favour."  He  gave  her 
the  reins,  with  a  gesture  of  apology 
stepped  in  front  of  her,  and  lowered 
himself  into  the  water  on  the  left-hand 
side.  "Now,  my  friend,  one  of  us  at 
each  of  their  heads,  and  we  do  it !  The 
whip,  madame  with  all  your  might,  the 
whip ! " 

The  horses  made  a  bound ;  the  driver 
dashed  forward  and  caught  one  by  the 
bridle;  the  lady  lashed.  On  his  side 
Dieppe,  clinging  to  a  trace,  made  his 
way  forward.  Both  he  and  the  driver 
now  shouted  furiously,  their  voices  echo- 
ing in  the  hills  that  rose  from  the  river 
on  either  side,  and  rising  at  last  in  a 

147 


Captain  Dieppe 

shout  of  triumph  as  the  wheels  turned, 
the  horses  gained  firm  footing,  and  with 
a  last  spring  forward  landed  the  carriage 
in  safety. 

The  driver  swore  softly  and  crossed 
himself  devoutly  before  he  fell  to  a  rue- 
ful study  of  the  roof  of  the  landau. 

"  Monsieur,  I  am  eternally  indebted  to 
you,"  cried  the  lady  to  Dieppe. 

"It  is  a  reciprocal  service,  madame," 
said  he.  "  To  tell  the  truth,  I  also  had 
special  reasons  for  wishing  to  gain  this 
side  of  the  river." 

She  appeared  a  trifle  embarrassed,  but 
civility,  or  rather  gratitude,  impelled  her 
to  the  suggestion.  "You  are  travelling 
my  way  ? "  she  asked. 

"  A  thousand  thanks,  but  I  have  some 
business  to  transact  first." 

She  seemed  relieved,  but  she  was  puz- 
zled, too.  "Business?  Here?"  she 
murmured. 

Dieppe  nodded.  "  It  will  not  keep  me 
long,"  he  added  gravely. 

The  driver  had  succeeded  in  restoring 
148 


The  Carriage  at  the  Ford 


the  top  of  the  landau  to  a  precarious 
stability.  Dieppe  handed  the  lady  down 
from  the  box-seat  and  into  the  interior. 
The  driver  mounted  his  perch ;  the  lady 
leant  out  of  the  window  to  take  fare- 
well of  her  ally. 

"Every  hour  was  of  value  to  me,"  she 
said,  with  a  plain  touch  of  emotion  in 
her  voice,  "and  but  for  you  I  should 
have  been  taken  back  to  Sasellano.  We 
shall  meet  again,  I  hope." 

"  I  shall  live  in  the  hope,"  said  he,  with 
a  somewhat  excessive  gallantry— a  trick 
of  which  he  could  not  cure  himself. 

The  driver  whipped  up— he  did  not  in- 
tend that  either  he  or  his  horses,  having 
escaped  drowning,  should  die  of  cold. 
The  equipage  lumbered  up  the  hill,  its 
inmate  still  leaning  out  and  waving  her 
hand.  Dieppe  watched  until  the  party 
reached  the  zigzags  and  was  hidden  from 
view,  though  he  still  heard  the  crack  of 
the  whip. 

"  Very  interesting,  very  interesting !  " 
he  murmured  to  himself.  "  But  now  to 
149 


Captain  Dieppe 

business !  Now  for  friend  Guillauine 
and  the  Countess !  "  His  face  fell  as  he 
spoke.  With  the  disappearance  of  ex- 
citement, and  the  cessation  of  exertion, 
he  realised  again  the  great  sorrow  that 
faced  him  and  admitted  of  no  evasion. 
He  sighed  deeply  and  sought  his  cigar- 
ette-case. Vain  hope  of  comfort!  His 
cigarettes  were  no  more  than  a  distaste- 
ful pulp.  He  felt  forlorn,  very  cold, 
very  hungry,  also;  for  it  was  now  be- 
tween nine  and  ten  o'clock.  His  heart 
was  heavy  as  he  prepared  to  mount  the 
hill  and  finish  his  evening's  work.  He 
must  see  Guillaume;  he  must  see  the 
Countess;  and  then— 

"  Ah !  "  he  cried,  and  stooped  suddenly 
to  the  ground.  A  bright  object  lay  plain 
and  conspicuous  on  the  road  which  had 
grown  white  again  as  it  dried  in  the 
sharp  wind.  It  was  an  oval  locket  of 
gold,  dropped  there,  a  few  yards  from 
the  ford.  It  lay  open— no  doubt  the  jar 
of  the  fall  accounted  for  that— face 
downwards.  The  Captain  picked  it  up 
150 


The  Carriage  at  the  Ford 


and  examined  it.  He  said  nothing;  his 
usual  habit  of  soliloquy  failed  him  for 
the  moment ;  he  looked  at  it,  then  round 
at  the  landscape.  For  the  moonlight 
showed  him  a  picture  in  the  locket,  and 
enabled  him  to  make  out  a  written  in- 
scription under  it. 

"  What  ? "  breathed  he  at  last.  "  Oh,  I 
can't  believe  it!"  He  looked  again. 
"  Oh,  if  that  's  the  lie  of  the  land,  my 
friend ! "  He  smiled ;  then,  in  an  appa- 
rent revulsion  of  feeling,  he  frowned 
angrily,  and  even  shook  his  fist  down- 
stream, perhaps  intending  the  gesture 
for  some  one  in  the  village.  Lastly,  he 
shook  his  head  sadly,  and  set  off  up  the 
hill  in  the  wake  of  the  now  vanished  car- 
riage ;  as  he  went,  he  whistled  in  a  soft 
and  meditative  way.  But  before  he 
started,  he  had  assured  himself  that  he 
in  his  turn  had  not  dropped  anything, 
and  that  M.  Guillaume's  partially  de- 
pleted portfolio  was  still  safe  in  his 
pocket,  side  by  side  with  his  own  pre- 
cious papers.  And  he  deposited  the 

151 


Captain  Dieppe 


locket  he  had  found  with  these  other 
valued  possessions. 

A  few  minutes'  walking  brought  him  to 
the  Cross.  The  exercise  had  warmed 
him,  the  threatened  stiffness  of  cold  had 
passed;  he  ran  lightly  up  the  hill  and 
down  into  the  basin.  There  was  no  sign 
of  M.  Guillaume.  The  Captain,  rather 
vexed,  for  he  had  business  with  that  gen- 
tleman,— an  explanation  of  a  matter  which 
touched  his  own  honour  to  make,  and 
an  account  which  intimately  concerned 
M.  Guillaume  to  adjust, — entered  the  hut. 
In  an  instant  his  hand  was  grasped  in 
an  appealing  grip,  and  the  voice  he  loved 
best  in  the  world  (there  was  no  blinking 
the  fact,  whatever  might  be  thought  of 
the  propriety),  cried,  "  Ah,  you  're  safe?" 

"  How  touching  that  is !  "  thought  the 
Captain.  "  She  has  a  hundred  causes  for 
anxiety,  but  her  first  question  is,  '  You're 
safe?'"  This  was  she  whom  he  re- 
nounced, and  this  was  she  whom  the 
Count  of  Fieramondi  deceived.  What 
were  her  trifling  indiscretions  beside  her 
152 


The  Carriage  at  the  Ford 


husband's  infamy— the  infamy  betrayed 
and  proved  by  the  picture  and  inscrip- 
tion in  the  locket  ? 

"I  am  safe,  and  you  are  safe,"  said 
he,  returning  the  pressure  of  her  hand. 
"  And  where  is  our  friend  outside  ?  " 

"I  don't  know— I  lay  hidden  till  I 
heard  him  go.  I  don't  know  where  he 
went.  What  do  you  mean  by  saying 
I  'm  safe  ?  " 

"  I  have  got  rid  of  Paul  de  Roustache. 
He  '11  trouble  you  no  more." 

"What?"  Wonder  and  admiration 
sparkled  in  her  eyes.  Because  he  was 
enabled  to  see  them,  Dieppe  was  grate- 
ful to  her  for  having  replaced  and  re- 
lighted his  candle.  "Yes,  I  was  afraid 
in  the  dark,"  she  said,  noticing  his  glance 
at  it.  "  But  it  's  almost  burnt  out. 
We  must  be  quick.  Is  the  trouble  with 
M.  de  Roustache  really  over  ? " 

"  Absolutely." 

"And  we  owe  it  to  you?  But  you—- 
why, you  're  wet !  " 

"  It 's  not  surprising,"  said  he,  smiling. 
153 


Captain  Dieppe 

"  There  's  a  flood  in  the  river,  and  I  have 
crossed  it  twice." 

"What  did  you  cross  the  river  for?" 

"I  had  to  escort  M.  de  Roustache 
across,  and  he  's  a  bad  swimmer.  He 
jumped  in,  and—" 

"You  saved  his  life?" 

"  Don't  reproach  me,  my  friend.  It  is 
an  instinct;  and— er— he  carried  the 
pocket-book  of  our  friend  outside;  and 
the  pocket-book  had  my  money  in  it, 
you  know." 

"Your  money?  I  thought  you  had 
only  fifty  francs?" 

"  The  money  due  to  me,  I  should  say. 
Fifty  thousand  francs."  The  Captain 
unconsciously  assumed  an  air  of  some 
importance  as  he  mentioned  this  sum. 
"  So  I  was  bound  to  pursue  friend  Paul," 
he  ended. 

"  It  was  dangerous  ? " 

"  Oh,  no,  no,"  he  murmured.    "  Coming 
back,  though,  was  rather  difficult,"  he  con- 
tinned.     "The  carriage  was  very  heavy, 
and  we  had  some  ado  to—" 
154 


The  Carriage  at  the  Ford 


"  The  carriage  !  What  carriage  ? "  she 
cried  with  eagerness. 

"  Oddly  enough,  I  found  a  lady  travel- 
ling— from  Sasellano,  I  understood ;  and 
I  had  the  privilege  of  aiding  her  to  cross 
the  ford."  Dieppe  spoke  with  a  calcu- 
lated lightness. 

"A  lady— a  lady  from  Sasellano? 
What  sort  of  a  lady?  What  was  she 
like?" 

The  Captain  was  watching  her  closely. 
Her  agitation  was  unmistakable.  Did 
she  know,  did  she  suspect,  anything  ? 

"She  was  tall,  dark,  and  dignified  in 
appearance.  She  spoke  slowly,  with  a 
.slight  drawl—" 

"  Yes,  yes !  " 

"And  she  was  very  eager  to  pursue 
her  journey.  She  must  have  come  by 
here.  Did  n't  you  hear  the  wheels  ? " 

"No— I— I— was  n't  thinking."  But 
she  was  thinking  now.  The  next  instant 
she  cried,  "I  must  go,  I  must  go  at 
once." 

"  But  where  ? " 

155 


Captain  Dieppe 


"  Why,  back  home,  of  course !  Where 
else  should  I  go?  Oh,  I  may  be  too 
late ! " 

Unquestionably  she  knew  something- 
how  much  the  Captain  could  not  tell. 
His  feelings  may  be  imagined.  His  voice 
was  low,  and  very  compassionate  as  he 
asked : 

"  You  '11  go  home  ?  When  she 's  there  ? 
At  least,  if  I  conclude  rightly—" 

"Yes,  I  must  go.  I  must  get  there 
before  she  sees  Andrea;  otherwise,  all 
will  be  lost." 

For  the  instant  her  agitation  seemed 
to  make  her  forget  Dieppe's  presence,  or 
what  he  might  think  of  her  manner. 
Now  she  recovered  herself.  "I  mean — I 
mean— I  want  to  speak  to  her.  I  must 
tell  her-" 

"  Tell  her  nothing.  Confront  her  with 
that."  And  the  Captain  produced  the  gold 
locket  with  an  air  of  much  solemnity. 

His  action  did  not  miss  its  effect.  She 
gazed  at  the  locket  in  apparent  bewilder- 
ment. 

156 


The  Carriage  at  the  Ford 


"  No,  don't  open  it,"  he  added  hastily. 

"  Where  did  you  get  it  ?  " 

"  She  dropped  it  by  the  river.  It  was 
open  when  I  picked  it  up." 

"  Why,  it  's  the  locket—  How  does  it 
open?"  She  was  busy  looking  for  the 
spring. 

"I  implore  you  not  to  open  it!"  he 
cried,  catching  her  hand  and  restraining 
her. 

"Why?"  she  asked,  pausing  and  look- 
ing up  at  him. 

The  question  and  the  look  that  accom- 
panied it  proved  too  great  a  strain  for 
Dieppe's  self-control.  Now  he  caught 
both  her  hands  in  his  as  he  said : 

"  Because  I  can't  bear  that  you  should 
suffer.  Because  I  love  you  too  much." 

Without  a  doubt  it  was  delight  that  lit 
up  her  eyes  now,  but  she  whispered  re- 
provingly, "  Oh,  you !  You  the  ambas- 
sador." 

"I  had  n't  seen  that  locket  when  I 
became  his  ambassador." 

"Let  go  my  hands." 
157 


Captain  Dieppe 

"Indeed  I  can't/'  urged  the  Captain. 
But  she  drew  them  away  with  a  sharp 
motion  that  he  could  not  resist,  and 
before  he  could  say  or  do  more  to  stop 
her  she  had  opened  the  locket. 

"As  I  thought,"  she  cried,  hurriedly 
reclasping  it  and  turning  to  him  in  eager 
excitement ;  "  I  must  go,  indeed  I  must 
go  at  once !  " 

"Alone?"  asked  Captain  Dieppe,  with 
a  simple,  but  effective  eloquence. 

At  least  it  appeared  very  effective. 
She  came  nearer  to  him  and,  of  her  own 
accord  now,  laid  her  hands  in  his.  Shy- 
ness and  pleasure  struggled  in  her  eyes 
as  she  fixed  them  on  his  face. 

"  I  shall  see  you  again,"  she  murmured. 

"  How  ? "  he  asked. 

"  Why,  you  're  coming  back— back  to 
the  Castle?"  she  cried  eagerly.  The 
doubt  of  his  returning  thither  seemed  to 
fill  her  with  dismay. 

The  Captain's  scruples  gave  way. 
Perhaps  it  was  the  locket  that  under- 
mined them,  perhaps  that  look  in  her 
158 


The  Carriage  at  the  Ford 


eyes,  and  the  touch  of  her  hands  as  they 
rested  in  his. 

"I  will  do  anything  you  bid  me,"  he 
whispered. 

"  Then  come  once  again."  She  paused. 
"  Because  I — I  don't  want  to  say  good- 
bye just  now." 

"If  I  come,  will  it  be  to  say  good- 
bye?" 

"  That  shall  be  as  you  wish,"  she  said. 

It  seemed  to  Dieppe  that  no  confession 
could  have  been  more  ample,  yet  none 
more  delicately  reserved  in  the  manner 
of  its  utterance.  His  answer  was  to 
clasp  her  in  his  arms  and  kiss  her  lips. 
But  in  an  instant  he  released  her,  in 
obedience  to  the  faint,  yet  sufficient, 
protest  of  her  hands  pressing  him  away. 

"Come  in  an  hour,"  she  whispered, 
and,  turning,  left  him  and  passed  from 
the  hut. 

For  a  moment  or  two  he  stood  where 

he  was,  devoured  by  many  conflicting 

feelings.     But  his  love,  once  obedient  to 

the  dictates  of  friendship  and  the  un- 

159 


Captain  Dieppe 

yielding  limits  of  honour,  would  not  be 
denied  now.  How  had  the  Count  of 
Fieramondi  now  any  right  to  invoke  his 
honour,  or  to  appeal  to  his  friendship? 
Gladly,  as  a  man  will,  the  Captain  seized 
on  another's  fault  to  excuse  his  own. 

"I  will  go  again—in  an  hour— and  I 
will  not  say  good-bye,"  he  declared,  as  he 
flung  himself  down  on  one  of  the  trusses 
of  straw  and  prepared  to  wait  till  it 
should  be  time  for  him  to  set  out. 

The  evening  had  been  so  full  of  sur- 
prises, so  prolific  of  turns  of  fortune 
good  and  evil,  so  bountiful  of  emotions 
and  changeful  feelings,  that  he  had  little 
store  of  surprise  left  wherewith  to  meet 
any  new  revolution  of  the  wheel.  Never- 
theless it  was  with  something  of  a  start 
that  he  raised  his  head  again  from  the 
straw  on  which  he  had  for  a  moment  re- 
clined, and  listened  intently.  There  had 
been  a  rustle  in  the  straw ;  he  turned  his 
head  sharply  to  the  left.  But  he  had 
misjudged  the  position  whence  the  noise 
came.  From  behind  the  truss  of  straw  to 
160 


The  Carriage  at  the  Ford 


his  right  there  rose  the  figure  of  a  man. 
Monsieur  Guillaume  stood  beside  him,  his 
head  tied  round  with  a  handkerchief,  but 
his  revolver  in  his  hand.  The  Captain's 
hand  flew  towards  his  breast-pocket. 

"  You  '11  particularly  oblige  me  by  not 
moving,"  said  Monsieur  Guillaume,  with 
a  smile. 

Of  a  certainty  a  man  should  not  min- 
gle love  and  business,  especially,  perhaps, 
when  neither  the  love  nor  the  business 
can  be  said  properly  to  belong  to  him. 


161 


CHAPTER  IX 

THE   STRAW  IN   THE   CORNER 

There  was  nothing  odd  in  M.  Guil- 
laume's  presence,  however  little  the  lady 
or  the  Captain  had  suspected  it.  The 
surprise  he  gave  was  a  reprisal  for  that 
which  he  had  suffered  when,  after  the 
Captain's  exit,  he  had  recovered  his  full 
faculties  and  heard  a  furtive  movement 
within  the  hut.  It  was  the  inspiration 
and  the  work  of  a  moment  to  raise  him- 
self with  an  exaggerated  effort  and  a  pur- 
posed noise,  and  to  take  his  departure 
with  a  tread  heavy  enough  to  force  itself 
on  the  ears  of  the  unknown  person  in- 
side. But  he  did  not  go  far.  To  what 
purpose  should  he,  since  it  was  vain  to 
hope  to  overtake  the  Captain  or  Paul  de 
Roustache  ?  Some  one  was  left  behind ; 

162 


The  Straw  in  the  Corner 


then,  successful  or  unsuccessful,  the  Cap- 
tain would  return— unless  Paul  murdered 
him,  a  catastrophe  which  would  be  irre- 
mediable, but  was  exceedingly  unlikely. 
Guillaume  mounted  to  the  top  of  the 
eminence  and  flung  himself  down  in  the 
grass ;  thence  he  crawled  round  the  sum- 
mit, descended  again  with  a  stealthiness  in 
striking  contrast  to  his  obtrusive  ascent, 
and  lay  down  in  the  dark  shadow  of  the 
hut  itself.  In  about  twenty  minutes  his 
patience  was  rewarded:  the  lady  came 
out,— she  had  forgotten  to  mention  this 
little  excursion  to  the  Captain,— mounted 
the  rise,  looked  round,  and  walked  down 
towards  the  Cross.  Presumably  she  was 
looking  for  a  sight  of  Dieppe.  In  a  few 
minutes  she  returned.  Guillaume  was 
no  longer  lying  by  the  hut,  but  was  safe 
inside  it  under  the  straw.  She  found 
Dieppe's  matches,  relighted  the  candle, 
and  sat  down  in  the  doorway  with  her 
back  to  the  straw.  Thus  each  had  kept 
a  silent  vigil  until  the  Captain  returned 
to  the  rendezvous.  Guillaume  felt  that 
163 


Captain  Dieppe 


he  had  turned  a  rather  unpromising  sit- 
uation to  very  good  account.  He  was 
greatly  and  naturally  angered  with  Paul 
de  Roustache:  the  loss  of  his  portfolio 
was  grievous.  But  the  Captain  was  his 
real  quarry;  the  Captain's  papers  would 
more  than  console  him  for  his  money; 
and  he  had  a  very  pretty  plan  for  dealing 
with  the  Captain. 

Nothing  was  to  be  gained  by  sitting 
upright.  In  a  moment  Dieppe  realised 
this,  and  sank  back  on  his  truss  of  straw. 
He  glanced  at  Guillaume's  menacing 
weapon,  and  thence  at  Guillaume  him- 
self. "  Your  play,  my  friend,"  he  seemed 
to  say.  He  knew  the  game  too  well  not 
to  recognise  and  accept  its  chances.  But 
Guillaume  was  silent. 

"  The  hurt  to  your  head  is  not  serious 
or  painful,  I  hope?"  Dieppe  inquired 
politely.  Still  Guillaume  maintained  a 
grim  and  ominous  silence.  The  Captain 
tried  again.  "I  trust,  my  dear  friend," 
said  he  persuasively,  "  that  your  weapon 
is  intended  for  strictly  defensive  pur- 
164 


The  Straw  in  the  Corner 


poses?"  The  candle  had  burnt  almost 
down  to  the  block  on  which  it  rested 
(the  fact  did  not  escape  Dieppe),  but  it 
served  to  show  Guillaume's  acid  smile. 
"What  quarrel  have  we?"  pursued  the 
Captain,  in  a  conciliatory  tone.  "I  Ve 
actually  been  engaged  on  your  business, 
and  got  confoundedly  wet  over  it  too." 

"  You  've  been  across  the  river  then  ? " 
asked  Guillaume,  breaking  his  silence. 

"It  's  not  my  fault— the  river  was  in 
my  way,"  Dieppe  answered  a  little  impa- 
tiently. "  As  for  you,  why  do  you  listen 
to  my  conversation  ? " 

"With  the  Countess  of  Fieramondi? 
Ah,  you  soldiers !  You  were  a  little  indis- 
creet there,  my  good  Captain.  But  that 's 
not  my  business." 

"Your  remark  is  very  just,"  agreed 
Dieppe.  "I  '11  give  that  candle  just  a 
quarter  of  an  hour,"  he  was  thinking. 

"Except  so  far  as  I  may  be  able  to 
turn  it  to  my  purposes.  Come,  we  know 
one  another,  Captain  Dieppe." 

"  We  have  certainly  met  in  the  course 

165 


Captain  Dieppe 

of  business,"  the  Captain  conceded  with 
a  touch  of  hauteur,  as  he  shifted  the 
truss  a  little  further  under  his  right 
shoulder. 

"I  want  something  that  you  have," 
said  Guillaume,  fixing  his  eyes  on  his 
companion.  Dieppe's  were  on  the  candle. 
"Listen  to  me,"  commanded  Guillaume, 
imperiously. 

"I  have  really  no  alternative,"  shrugged 
the  Captain.  "  But  don't  make  impossi- 
ble propositions.  And  be  brief.  It  's 
late ;  I  'm  hungry,  cold,  and  wet." 

Guillaume  smiled  contemptuously  at 
this  useless  bravado ;  for  such  it  seemed 
to  him.  It  did  not  occur  to  his  mind 
that  Dieppe  had  anything  to  gain— or 
even  a  bare  chance  of  gaining  anything 
— by  protracting  the  conversation.  But 
in  fact  the  Captain  was  making  observa- 
tions—first of  the  candle,  secondly  of  the 
number  and  position  of  the  trusses  of 
straw. 

"  Are  you  in  a  position  to  call  any  prop- 
osition impossible  ? "  Guillaume  asked. 
166 


The  Straw  in  the  Corner 


"  It 's  quite  true  that  I  can't  make  use 
of  my  revolver,"  agreed  the  Captain. 
"  But  on  the  other  hand  you  don't,  I 
presume,  intend  to  murder  me  ?  Would 
n't  that  be  exceeding  your  instructions  ? " 

"I  don't  know  as  to  that— I  might  be 
forgiven.  But  of  course  I  entertain  no 
such  desire.  Captain,  I  Ve  an  idea  that 
you  're  in  possession  of  my  portfolio." 

"  What  puts  that  into  your  head  f " 
inquired  the  Captain  in  a  rather  satirical 
tone. 

"  From  what  you  said  to  the  Countess 

J n 

"Ah,  I  find  it  so  hard  to  realise  that 
you  actually  committed  that  breach  of 
etiquette,"  murmured  Dieppe,  reproach- 
fully. 

"And  that  perhaps— I  say  only  per- 
haps—you have  made  free  with  the  con- 
tents. For  it  seems  you  've  got  rid  of 
Paul  de  Roustache.  Well,  I  will  not 
complain—" 

"  Ah  ? "  said  the  Captain  with  a  move- 
ment of  interest. 

167 


Captain  Dieppe 

"  But  if  I  lose  my  money,  I  must  have 
my  money's  worth." 

"That  's  certainly  what  one  prefers 
when  it  's  possible,"  smiled  the  Captain, 
indulgently. 

"  To  put  it  briefly—" 

"As  briefly  as  you  can,  pray,"  cried 
Dieppe;  but  the  candle  burnt  steadily 
still,  and  brevity  was  the  last  thing  that 
he  desired. 

"Give  me  your  papers  and  you  may 
keep  the  portfolio." 

The  Captain's  indignation  at  this  pro- 
posal was  extreme ;  indeed,  it  led  him  to 
sit  upright  again,  to  fix  his  eyes  on  the 
candle,  and  to  talk  right  on  end  for  hard 
on  five  minutes — in  fact  as  long  as  he 
could  find  words— on  the  subject  of  his 
honour  as  a  gentleman,  as  a  soldier,  as  a 
Frenchman,  as  a  friend,  as  a  confidential 
agent,  and  as  a  loyal  servant.  Guillaume 
did  not  interrupt  him,  but  listened  with 
a  smile  of  genuine  amusement. 

"  Excellent !  "  he  observed,  as  the  Cap- 
tain sank  back  exhausted.  "  A  most  ex- 
168 


The  Straw  in  the  Corner 


cellent  preamble  for  your  explanation  of 
the  loss,  my  dear  Captain.  And  you  will 
add  at  the  end  that,  seeing  all  this,  it 
cannot  be  doubted  that  you  surrendered 
these  papers  only  under  absolute  compul- 
sion, and  not  the  least  in  the  world  for 
reasons  connected  with  my  portfolio." 

"My  words  were  meant  to  appeal  to 
your  own  better  feelings,"  sighed  the 
Captain  in  a  tone  of  despairing  reproach. 

"  You  betray  the  Count  of  Fieramondi, 
your  friend;  why  not  betray  your  em- 
ployers also  ? " 

For  a  moment  there  was  a  look  in  the 
Captain's  eye  which  seemed  to  indicate 
annoyance,  but  the  next  instant  he  smiled. 

"As  if  there  were  any  parallel ! "  said 
he.  "  Matters  of  love  are  absolutely  dif- 
ferent, my  good  friend."  Then  he  went 
on  very  carelessly,  "The  candle  's  low. 
Why  don't  you  light  your  lantern  ?  " 

"  That  rascal  Paul  threw  it  away,  and 

I  had  n't  time  to  get  it."    No  expression, 

save  a  mild  concern,  appeared  on  Captain 

Dieppe's  face,  although  he  had  discovered 

169 


Captain  Dieppe 

a  fact  of  peculiar  interest  to  him.  "  The 
candle  will  last  as  long  as  we  shall  want 
it,"  pursued  Guillaume. 

"  Very  probably,"  agreed  the  Captain, 
with  a  languid  yawn ;  again  he  shifted 
his  straw  till  the  bulk  of  it  was  under  his 
right  shoulder,  and  he  lay  on  an  incline 
that  sloped  down  to  the  left.  "And 
you  '11  kill  me  and  take  my  papers,  eh  ? " 
he  inquired,  turning  and  looking  up  at 
Guillaume.  He  could  barely  see  his 
enemy's  face  now,  for  the  candle  gut- 
tered and  sputtered,  while  the  moon, 
high  in  heaven,  threw  light  on  the  dip 
of  the  hill  outside,  but  did  little  or 
nothing  to  relieve  the  darkness  within 
the  hut. 

"  No,  I  shall  not  murder  you.  You  '11 
give  them  to  me,  I  'm  sure." 

"  And  if  I  refuse,  dear  M.  Guillaume  ? " 

"I  shall  invite  you  to  accompany  me 
to  the  village— or,  more  strictly,  to  pre- 
cede me." 

"  What  should  we  do  together  in  the 
village  ? "  cried  Dieppe. 

170 


The  Straw  in  the  Corner 


"  I  shall  beg  of  you  to  walk  a  few  paces 
in  front  of  me, — just  a  few, — to  go  at  just 
the  pace  I  go,  and  to  remember  that  I 
carry  a  revolver  in  my  hand." 

"  My  memory  would  be  excellent  on 
such  a  point,"  the  Captain  assured  him. 
"  But,  again,  why  to  the  village?" 

"  We  should  go  together  to  the  office 
of  the  police.  I  am  on  good  terms  with 
the  police." 

"  Doubtless.  But  what  have  they  to 
do  with  me  ?  Come,  come,  my  matter  is 
purely  political;  they  would  n't  mix 
themselves  up  in  it." 

"  I  should  charge  you  with  the  unlaw- 
ful possession  of  my  portfolio.  You 
would  admit  it,  or  you  would  deny  it. 
In  either  case  your  person  would  be 
searched,  the  papers  would  be  found, 
and  I,  who  am  on  such  friendly  terms 
with  the  police,  should  certainly  enjoy 
an  excellent  opportunity  of  inspecting 
them.  You  perceive,  my  dear  Captain, 
that  I  have  thought  it  out." 

"  It 's  neat,  certainly,"  agreed  the  Cap- 
171 


Captain  Dieppe 

tain,  who  was  not  a  little  dismayed  at 
this  plan  of  Guillaume's.  "  But  I  should 
not  submit  to  the  search." 

"Ah!  Now  how  would  you  prevent 
it?" 

"  I  should  send  for  my  friend  the 
Count.  He  has  influence;  he  would 
answer  for  me." 

"  What,  when  he  hears  my  account  of 
your  interview  with  his  wife?"  Old 
Guillaume  played  this  card  with  a  smile 
of  triumph.  "  I  told  you  that  the  little 
affair  might  perhaps  be  turned  to  my 
purposes,"  he  reminded  Dieppe,  mali- 
ciously. 

The  Captain  reflected,  taking  as  long 
as  he  decently  could  over  the  task.  In- 
deed he  was  in  trouble.  Guillaume's 
scheme  was  sagacious,  Guillaume's  posi- 
tion very  strong.  And  at  last  Guillaume 
grew  impatient.  But  still  the  persistent 
candle  burnt. 

"  I  give  you  one  minute  to  make  up 
your  mind,"  said  Guillaume,  dropping  his 
tone  of  sarcastic  pleasantry,  and  speak- 
172 


The  Straw  in  the  Corner 


ing  in  a  hard,  sharp  voice.  "  After  that, 
either  you  give  me  the  papers,  or  you  get 
up  and  march  before  me  to  the  village." 

"  If  I  refuse  to  do  either  ?" 

"  You  can't  refuse,"  said  Guillaume. 

"  You  mean—  ? " 

"I  should  order  you  to  hold  your 
hands  behind  your  back  while  I  took  the 
papers.  If  you  moved—" 

"  Thank  you.  I  see,"  said  the  Captain, 
with  a  nod  of  understanding.  "Awk- 
ward for  you,  though,  if  it  came  to 
that." 

"  Oh,  I  think  not  very,  in  view  of  your 
dealings  with  my  portfolio." 

"I  'm  in  a  devil  of  a  hole,"  admitted 
the  Captain,  candidly. 

"  Time 's  up,"  announced  M.  Guillaume, 
slowly  raising  the  barrel  of  his  revolver, 
and  taking  aim  at  the  Captain.  For  the 
candle  still  burnt,  although  dimly  and 
fitfully,  and  still  there  was  light  to  guide 
the  bullet  on  its  way. 

"  It 's  all  up !  "  said  the  Captain.  "  But, 
deuce  take  it,  it 's  hardly  the  way  to  treat 
173 


Captain  Dieppe 

a  gentleman ! "  Even  as  he  spoke  the 
light  of  the  candle  towered  for  a  second 
in  a  last  shoot  of  flame,  and  then  went 
out. 

At  the  same  moment  the  Captain  rolled 
down  the  incline  of  straw  on  which  he 
had  been  resting,  rose  on  his  knees  an 
instant,  seized  the  truss  and  flung  it  at 
Guillaume,  rolled  under  the  next  truss, 
seized  that  in  like  manner  and  propelled 
it  against  the  enemy,  and  darted  again 
to  shelter.  "  Stop,  or  I  fire,"  cried  Guil- 
laume; he  was  as  good  as  his  word  the 
next  minute,  but  the  third  truss  caught 
him  just  as  he  aimed,  and  his  bullet  flew 
against  and  was  buried  in  the  planking 
of  the  roof.  By  now,  the  Captain  was 
escaping  from  under  the  fourth  truss, 
and  making  for  the  fifth.  Guillaume, 
dimly  seeing  the  fourth  truss  not  thrown, 
but  left  in  its  place,  discharged  another 
shot  at  it.  The  fifth  truss  caught  him 
in  the  side  and  drove  him  against  the 
wooden  block.  He  turned  swiftly  in 
the  direction  whence  the  missile  came, 
174 


The  Straw  in  the  Corner 


and  fired  again.  He  was  half  dazed,  his 
eyes  and  ears  seemed  full  of  the  dust  of 
the  straw.  He  fired  once  again  at  ran- 
dom, swearing  savagely ;  and  before  he 
could  recover  aim  his  arm  was  seized  from 
behind,  his  neck  was  caught  in  a  vigorous 
garotte,  and  he  fell  on  the  floor  of  the  hut 
with  Captain  Dieppe  on  the  top  of  him— 
Dieppe,  dusty,  dirty,  panting,  bleeding 
freely  from  a  bullet  graze  on  the  top  of 
the  left  ear,  and  with  one  leg  of  his  trou- 
sers slit  from  ankle  to  knee  by  a  rusty 
nail,  that  had  also  ploughed  a  nasty  fur- 
row up  his  leg.  But  now  he  seized  Guil- 
laume's  revolver,  and  dragged  the  old 
fellow  out  of  the  hut.  Then  he  sat  down 
on  his  chest,  pinning  his  arms  together 
on  the  ground  above  his  head. 

"  You  enjoyed  playing  your  mouse  just 
a  trifle  too  long,  old  cat,"  said  he. 

Guillaume  lay  very  still,  exhausted, 
beaten,  and  defenceless.  Dieppe  released 
his  hands,  and,  rising,  stood  looking  down 
at  him.  A  smile  came  on  his  face. 

"We  are  now  in  a  better  position  to 
175 


Captain  Dieppe 


adjust  our  accounts  fairly,"  he  observed, 
as  he  took  from  his  pocket  M.  Guillaume's 
portfolio.  "  Listen,"  he  commanded ;  and 
Guillaume  turned  weary  but  spiteful  eyes 
to  him.  "  Here  is  your  portfolio.  Take 
it.  Look  at  it." 

Guillaume  sat  up  and  obeyed  the  com- 
mand. 

"Well?"  asked  Dieppe,  when  the  ex- 
amination was  ended. 

"You  have  robbed  me  of  twenty-five 
thousand  francs." 

The  Captain  looked  at  him  for  a  mo- 
ment with  a  frown.  But  the  next  instant 
he  smiled. 

"  I  must  make  allowances  for  the  state 
of  your  temper,"  he  remarked.  "  But  I 
wish  you  would  carry  all  your  money  in 
notes.  That  draft,  now,  is  no  use  to  me. 
Hence" — he  shrugged  his  shoulders  re- 
gretfully— "  I  am  obliged  to  leave  your 
Government  still  no  less  than  twenty -five 
thousand  francs  in  debt  to  me." 

"  What  ? "  cried  Guillaume,  with  a  sav- 
age stare. 

176 


The  Straw  in  the  Corner 


"  Oh,  yes,  you  know  that  well.  They 
have  fifty  thousand  which  certainly  don't 
belong  to  them,  and  certainly  do  to  me." 

"That  money  's  forfeited,"  growled 
Guillaume. 

"  If  you  like,  then,  I  forfeit  twenty-five 
thousand  of  theirs.  But  I  allow  it  in  ac- 
count with  them.  The  debt  now  stands 
reduced  by  half." 

"  I  '11  get  it  back  from  you  somehow," 
threatened  Guillaume,  who  was  helpless, 
but  not  cowed. 

"That  will  be  difficult.  I  gave  it  to 
Paul  de  Roustache  to  discharge  a  claim 
he  had  on  me." 

"To  Paul  de  Roustache?" 

"  Yes.  It  's  true  he  lent  me  five  thou- 
sand again;  but  that  's  ptfrely  between 
him  and  me.  And  I  shall  have  spent  it 
long  before  you  can  even  begin  to  take 
steps  to  recover  it."  He  paused  a  mo- 
ment and  then  added,  "  If  you  still  hanker 
after  your  notes,  I  should  recommend 
you  to  find  your  friend  and  accomplice, 
M.  Paul." 

177 


Captain  Dieppe 


"  Where  is  he  ? " 

"Who  can  tell?  I  saw  him  last  on 
the  road  across  the  river— it  leads  to 
Sasellano,  I  believe."  Dieppe  kept  his 
eye  on  his  vanquished  opponent,  but 
Guillaume  threatened  no  movement. 
The  Captain  dropped  the  revolver  into 
his  pocket,  stooped  to  pull  up  a  tuft  of 
grass  with  moist  earth  adhering  to  it, 
and,  with  the  help  of  his  handkerchief, 
made  a  primitive  plaster  to  stanch  the 
bleeding  of  his  ear.  As  he  was  so  en- 
gaged, the  sound  of  wheels  slowly  climb- 
ing the  hill  became  audible  from  the 
direction  of  the  village. 

"You  see,"  he  went  on,  "you  can't 
return  to  the  village— you  are  on  too 
good  terms  with  the  police.  Let  me  ad- 
vise you  to  go  to  Sasellano  5  the  flood 
will  be  falling  by  now,  and  I  should  n't 
wonder  if  we  could  find  you  a  means  of 
conveyance."  He  jerked  his  thumb  over 
his  shoulder  towards  the  road  behind  him. 

"  I  can't  go  back  to  the  village  ? "  de- 
manded Guillaume,  sullenly. 
178 


The  Straw  in  the  Corner 


"In  my  turn  I  must  beg  you  to  re- 
member that  I  now  carry  a  revolver. 
Come,  M.  Guillaume,  we  've  played  a 
close  hand,  but  the  odd  trick  's  mine. 
Go  back  and  tell  your  employers  not  to 
waste  their  time  on  me.  No,  nor  their 
money.  They  have  won  the  big  stake ; 
let  them  be  content.  And  again  let  me 
remind  you  that  Paul  de  Roustache  has 
your  twenty  thousand  francs.  I  don't 
think  you  '11  get  them  from  him,  but 
you  might.  From  me  you  '11  get  no- 
thing; and  if  you  try  the  law— oh,  think, 
my  friend,  how  very  silly  you  and  your 
Government  will  look !  " 

As  he  spoke  he  went  up  to  Guillaume 
and  took  him  by  the  arm,  exerting  a 
friendly  and  persuasive  pressure,  under 
which  Guillaume  presently  found  himself 
mounting  the  eminence.  The  wheels 
sounded  nearer  now,  and  Dieppe's  ears 
were  awake  to  their  movements.  The 
pair  began  to  walk  down  the  other  side 
of  the  slope  towards  the  Cross,  and  the 
carriage  came  into  their  view.  It  was 
179 


Captain  Dieppe 

easy  of  identification:  its  broken-down, 
lopsided  top  marked  it  beyond  mistake. 

An  instant  later  Dieppe  recognised  the 
burly  figure  of  the  driver,  \vho  was  walk- 
ing by  his  horses'  heads. 

"  Wonderfully  convenient !  "  he  ex- 
claimed. "  This  fellow  will  carry  you  to 
Sasellano  without  delay." 

Guillaume  did  not — indeed  could  not — 
refuse  to  obey  the  prompting  of  the  Cap- 
tarn's  arm,  but  he  grumbled  as  he  went. 

"  I  made  sure  of  getting  your  papers," 
he  said. 

"Unlooked-for  difficulties  will  arise, 
my  dear  M,  Guillaume." 

"  I  thought  the  reward  was  as  good  as 
in  my  pocket." 

•'  The  reward  ?  "  The  Captain  stopped 
and  looked  in  his  companion's  face  with 
some  amusement  and  a  decided  air  of 
gratification.  "There  was  a  reward? 
Oh,  I  am  important,  it  seems ! " 

"Five  thousand  francs/'  said  Guil- 
laume, sullenly. 

"  They  rate  me  rather  cheap,"  exclaimed 
180 


The  Straw  in  the  Corner 


the  Captain,  his  face  falling.     "  I  should 
have  hoped  for  five-and-twenty." 

"  Would  you  ?  If  it  had  been  that,  I 
should  have  brought  three  men  with 
me." 

"Hum!"  said  the  Captain.  "And 
you  gave  me  a  stiff  job  by  yourself, 
eh?"  He  turned  and  signalled  to  the 
driver,  who  had  now  reached  the  Cross : 
"Wait  a  moment  there,  my  friend." 
Then  he  turned  back  again  to  Guil- 
laume.  "Get  into  the  carriage— go  to 
Saseilano;  catch  Paul  if  you  can,  but 
leave  me  in  peace,"  he  said,  and,  diving 
into  his  pocket,  he  produced  the  five 
notes  of  a  thousand  francs  which  Paul 
de  Roustache,  in  some  strange  impulse 
of  repentance,  or  gratitude,  had  handed 
to  him.  "  What  you  tell  your  employers," 
he  added,  "I  don't  care.  This  is  a  gift 
from  me  to  you.  The  deuce,  I  reward 
effort  as  well  as  success— I  am  more 
liberal  than  your  Government."  The 
gesture  with  which  he  held  out  the  notes 
was  magnificent. 

181 


Captain  Dieppe 

Guillaume  stared  at  him  in  amazement, 
but  his  hand  went  out  towards  the  notes. 

"  I  am  free  to  do  what  I  can  at  Sasel- 
lano?" 

"  Yes,  free  to  do  anything  except  bother 
me.  But  I  think  your  bird  will  have 
flown." 

Guillaume  took  the  notes  and  hid  them 
in  his  pocket;  then  he  walked  straight 
up  to  the  driver,  crying,  "  How  much  to 
take  me  with  you  to  Sasellano  ? " 

The  driver  looked  at  him,  at  Dieppe, 
and  then  down  towards  the  river. 

"  Come,  the  flood  will  be  less  by  now ; 
the  river  will  be  falling,"  said  Dieppe. 

"  Fifty  francs,"  said  the  driver,  and 
Guillaume  got  in. 

"  Good !  "  said  the  Captain  to  himself. 
"  A  pretty  device !  And  that  scoundrel's 
money  did  n't  lie  comfortably  in  the 
pocket  of  a  gentleman."  He  waved  his 
hand  to  Guillaume  and  was  about  to  turn 
away,  when  the  driver  came  up  to  him 
and  spoke  in  a  cautious  whisper,  first 
looking  over  his  shoulder  to  see  whether 
182 


The  Straw  in  the  Corner 


his  new  fare  were  listening;  but  Guil- 
laume  was  sucking  at  a  flask. 

"  I  have  a  message  for  you,"  he  said. 

"  From  the  lady  you  carried —  ? " 

"  To  the  Count  of  Fieramondi's." 

"  Ah,  you  took  her  there  2 "  The  Cap- 
tain frowned  heavily. 

"  Yes,  and  left  her  there.  But  it 's  not 
from  her ;  it  's  from  another  lady  whom 
I  had  n't  seen  before.  She  met  me  just 
as  I  was  returning  from  the  Count's,  and 
bade  me  look  out  for  you  by  the  Cross — " 

"  Yes,  yes  ? "  cried  Dieppe,  eagerly. 
"Give  me  the  message."  For  his 
thoughts  flew  back  to  the  Countess  at 
the  first  summons. 

The  driver  produced  a  scrap  of  paper, 
carelessly  folded,  and  gave  it  to  him. 

Dieppe  ran  to  the  carriage  and  read 
the  message  by  the  light  of  its  dim  and 
smoky  lamp  : 

"  I  think  I  am  in  time.     Come ;  I  wait 

for  you.    Whatever  you  see,  keep  Andrea 

hi  the  dark.     If  you  are  discreet,  all  will 

be  well,  and  I — I  shall  be  very  grateful." 

183 


Captain  Dieppe 

The  driver  mounted  the  box,  the  car- 
riage rolled  off  down  the  hill,  Dieppe 
was  left  by  the  Cross,  with  the  message 
in  his  hand.  He  did  not  understand  the 
situation. 


184 


CHAPTER  X 

THE  JOURNEY  TO  ROME 

It  was  about  ten  o'clock— or,  it  may 
be,  nearer  half-past  ten— the  same  night 
when  two  inhabitants  of  the  village  re- 
ceived very  genuine,  yet  far  from  un- 
pleasant, shocks  of  surprise. 

The  first  was  the  parish  priest.  He 
was  returning  from  a  visit  to  the  bedside 
of  a  sick  peasant  and  making  his  way 
along  the  straggling  street  towards  his 
own  modest  dwelling,  which  stood  near 
the  inn,  when  he  met  a  tall  stranger 
of  most  dilapidated  appearance,  whose 
clothes  were  creased  and  dirty,  and 
whose  head  was  encircled  by  a  stained 
and  grimy  handkerchief.  He  wore  no 
hat ;  his  face  was  disfigured  with  blotches 
of  an  ugly  colour  and,  maybe,  an  uglier 
185 


Captain  Dieppe 

significance ;  his  trousers  were  most  atro- 
ciously rent  and  tattered ;  he  walked  with 
a  limp,  and  shivered  in  the  cold  night 
air.  This  unpromising-looking  person 
approached  the  priest  and  addressed 
him  with  an  elaborate  courtesy  oddly 
out  of  keeping  with  his  scarecrow-like 
appearance,  but  with  words  appropriate 
enough  to  the  figure  that  he  cut. 

"Reverend  father,"  said  he,  "pardon 
the  liberty  I  take,  but  may  I  beg  of  your 
Reverence's  great  kindness—" 

"It  's  no  use  begging  of  me,"  inter- 
rupted the  priest  hurriedly,  for  he  was 
rather  alarmed.  "In  the  first  place,  I 
have  nothing ;  in  the  second,  mendicancy 
is  forbidden  by  the  regulations  of  the 
commune." 

The  wayfarer  stared  at  the  priest, 
looked  down  at  his  own  apparel,  and 
then  burst  into  a  laugh. 

"Begging  forbidden,  eh?"  he  ex- 
claimed. "Then  the  poor  must  need 
voluntary  aid ! "  He  thrust  his  hand 
into  his  pocket  and  brought  out  two 

186 


The  Journey  to  Rome 


French  five-franc  pieces.  "  For  the  poor, 
father,"  he  said,  pressing  them  into  the 
priest's  hand.  "  For  myself,  I  was  merely 
about  to  ask  you  the  time  of  night."  And 
before  the  astonished  priest  could  make 
any  movement  the  stranger  passed  on 
his  way,  humming  a  soft,  and  senti- 
mental tune. 

"He  was  certainly  mad,  but  he  un- 
doubtedly gave  me  ten  francs,"  said  the 
priest  to  his  friend  the  innkeeper,  the 
next  day. 

"  I  wish,"  growled  the  innkeeper,  "  that 
somebody  would  give  me  some  money  to 
pay  for  what  those  two  runaway  rogues 
who  lodged  here  had  of  me;  their  bag- 
gage is  worth  no  more  than  half  what 
they  Ve  cost  me,  and  I  '11  lay  odds  I 
never  clap  eyes  on  them  again." 

And  in  this  suspicion  the  innkeeper 
proved,  in  the  issue,  to  be  absolutely 
right;  about  the  value  of  the  luggage 
there  is,  however,  more  room  for  doubt. 

The  second  person  who  suffered  a  sur- 
prise was  no  less  a  man  than  the  Count 
187 


Captain  Dieppe 

of  Fieramondi  himself.  But  how  this 
came  about  needs  a  little  more  explana- 
tion. 

In  that  very  room  through  whose  door- 
way Captain  Dieppe  had  first  beheld  the 
lady  whom  he  now  worshipped  with  a 
devotion  as  ardent  as  it  was  unhappy, 
there  were  now  two  ladies  engaged  in 
conversation.  One  sat  in  an  arm-chair, 
nursing  the  yellow  cat  of  which  mention 
has  been  made  earlier  in  this  history ;  the 
other  walked  up  and  down  with  every 
appearance  of  weariness,  trouble,  and  dis- 
tress on  her  handsome  face. 

"  Oh,  the  Bishop  was  just  as  bad  as  the 
banker,"  she  cried  fretfully,  "and  the 
banker  was  just  as  silly  as  the  Bishop. 
The  Bishop  said  that,  although  he  might 
have  considered  the  question  of  giving 
me  absolution  from  a  vow  which  I  had 
been  practically  compelled  to  take,  he 
could  hold  out  no  prospect  of  my  get- 
ting it  beforehand  for  taking  a  vow 
which  I  took  with  no  other  intention 
than  that  of  breaking  it;" 
188 


The  Journey  to  Rome 


"  I  told  you  he  'd  say  that  before  you 
went,"  observed  the  lady  in  the  arm-chair, 
who  seemed  to  be  treating  the  situation 
with  a  coolness  in  strong  contrast  to  her 
companion's  agitation. 

"And  the  banker  said  that  although, 
if  I  had  actually  spent  fifty  thousand  lire 
more  than  I  possessed,  he  would  have 
done  his  best  to  see  how  he  could  extri- 
cate me  from  the  trouble,  he  certainly 
would  not  help  me  to  get  fifty  thousand 
for  the  express  purpose  of  throwing  them 
away." 

"  I  thought  the  banker  would  say  that," 
remarked  the  other  lady,  caressing  the  cat. 

"  And  they  both  advised  me  to  take  my 
husband's  opinion  on  the  matter.  My 
husband's  opinion ! "  Her  tone  was 
bitter  and  tragic  indeed.  "I  suppose 
they  're  right,"  she  said,  flinging  herself 
dejectedly  into  a  chair.  "I  must  tell 
Andrea  everything.  Oh,  and  he  '11  for- 
give me ! " 

"  Well,  I  should  think  it  's  rather  nice 
being  forgiven." 


Captain  Dieppe 

"  Oh,  no,  not  by  Andrea ! "  The  faintest 
smile  flitted  for  an  instant  across  her 
face.  "  Oh,  no,  Andrea  does  n't  forgive 
like  that.  His  forgiveness  is  very— well, 
horribly  biblical,  you  know.  Oh,  I  'd 
better  not  have  gone  to  Rome  at  all !  •'' 

"  I  never  saw  any  good  in  your  going 
to  Rome,  you  know." 

"Yes,  I  must  tell  him  everything. 
Because  Paul  de  Roustache  is  sure  to 
come  and—" 

"  He  's  come  already."  observed  the 
second  lady,  calmly. 

"What?     Come?" 

The  other  lady  set  down  the  cat,  rose 
to  her  feet,  took  out  of  her  pocket  a  gold 
ring  and  a  gold  locket,  walked  over  to 
her  companion,  and  held  them  out  to  her. 
"  These  are  yours,  are  n't  they  ? "  she  in- 
quired, and  broke  into  a  merry  laugh. 
The  sight  brought  nothing  but  an  aston- 
ished stare  and  a  breathless  ejaculation— 

"Lucia!" 

The  two  ladies  drew  their  chair*  close 
together,  and  a  long  conversation  ensued, 
190 


Lucia  being  the  chief  narrator,  while  her 
companion,  whom  she  addressed  from 
time  to  time  as  Emilia,  did  little  more 
than  listen  and  throw  in  exclamations 
of  wonder,  surprise,  or  delight. 

"  How  splendidly  you  kept  the  secret !  " 
she  cried  once.  And  again,  "  How  lucky 
that  he  should  be  here ! "  And  again, 
"I  thought  he  looked  quite  charming." 
And  once  again,  "  But,  goodness,  what  a 
state  the  poor  man  must  be  in !  How 
could  you  help  telling  him,  Lucia  ? " 

"  I  had  promised,"  said  Lucia,  solemnly, 
"  and  I  keep  my  promises,  Emilia." 

"And  that  man  has  positively  gone?" 
sighed  Emilia,  taking  no  notice  of  a 
rather  challenging  emphasis  which  Lucia 
had  laid  on  her  last  remark. 

"  Yes,  gone  for  good— I  'm  sure  of  it. 
And  you  need  n't  tell  Andrea  anything. 
Just  take  all  the  vows  he  asks  you  to ! 
But  he  won't  now;  you  see  he  wants  a 
reconciliation  as  much  as  you  do." 

"I  shall  insist  on  taking  at  least  one 
vow,"  said  Emilia,  with  a  virtuous  air. 
191 


Captain  Dieppe 

She  stopped  and  started.  "  But  what  in 
the  world  am  I  to  say  about  you,  my 
dear?"  she  asked. 

"  Say  I  've  just  come  back  from  Rome, 
of  course,"  responded  Lucia. 

"  If  he  should  find  out—" 

"  It  's  very  unlikely,  and  at  the  worst 
you  must  take  another  vow,  Emilia. 
But  Andrea  '11  never  suspect  the  truth 
unless—" 

"Unless  what?" 

"Unless  Captain  Dieppe  lets  it  out, 
you  know." 

"  It  would  be  better  if  Captain  Dieppe 
did  n't  come  back,  I  think,"  observed 
Emilia,  thoughtfully. 

"Well,  of  all  the  ungrateful  women !  " 
cried  Lucia,  indignantly.  But  Emilia 
sprang  up  and  kissed  her,  and  began 
pressing  her  with  all  sorts  of  questions, 
or  rather  with  all  sorts  of  ways  of  put- 
ting one  question,  which  made  her  blush 
very  much,  and  to  which  she  seemed  un- 
able, or  unwilling,  to  give  any  definite 
reply.  At  last  Emilia  abandoned  the 
192 


The  Journey  to  Rome 


attempt  to  extract   an   admission,   and 
observed  with  a  sigh  of  satisfaction: 

"I  think  I  'd  better  see  Andrea  and 
forgive  him." 

"  You  '11  change  your  frock  first,  won't 
you,  dear?"  cried  Lucia.  It  was  cer- 
tainly not  desirable  that  Emilia  should 
present  herself  to  the  Count  in  the  gar- 
ments she  was  then  wearing. 

"  Yes,  of  course.  Will  you  come  with 
me  to  Andrea?" 

"  No.  Send  for  me,  presently— as  soon 
as  it  occurs  to  you  that  I  've  just  come 
back  from  Rome,  you  know,  and  should  be 
so  happy  to  hear  of  your  reconciliation." 

Half  an  hour  later,— for  the  change  of 
costume  had  to  be  radical,  since  there  is 
all  the  difference  in  the  world  between  a 
travelling-dress  and  an  easy,  negligent, 
yet  elegant,  toilette  suggestive  of  home 
and  the  fireside,  and  certainly  not  of 
wanderings,— the  Count  of  Fieramondi 
got  his  shock  of  surprise  in  the  shape  of 
an  inquiry  whether  he  were  at  leisure  to 
receive  a  visit  from  the  Countess. 
193 


Captain  Dieppe 


Yet  his  surprise,  great  as  it  was  at  a 
result  at  once  so  prosperous  and  so 
speedy,  did  not  prevent  him  from  draw- 
ing the  obvious  inference.  His  thoughts 
had  already  been  occupied  with  Captain 
Dieppe.  It  was  now  half -past  ten;  he 
had  waited  an  hour  for  dinner,  and  then 
eaten  it  alone  in  some  disquietude;  as 
time  went  on  he  became  seriously  un- 
easy, and  had  considered  the  despatch 
of  a  search  expedition.  If  his  friend  did 
not  return  in  half  an  hour,  he  had  de- 
clared, he  himself  would  go  and  look  for 
him ;  and  he  had  requested  that  he  should 
be  informed  the  moment  the  Captain  put 
in  an  appearance.  But,  alas !  what  is 
friendship— even  friendship  reinforced 
by  gratitude— beside  love  ?  As  the  poets 
have  often  remarked,  in  language  not 
here  to  be  attained,  its  power  is  insig- 
nificant, and  its  claims  go  to  the  wall. 
On  fire  with  the  emotions  excited  by  the 
Countess's  message,  the  Count  forgot 
both  Dieppe  and  all  that  he  owed  to 
Dieppe's  intercession;  the  matter  went 
194 


The  Journey  to  Rome 


clean  out  of  his  head  for  the  moment. 
He  leapt  up,  pushed  away  the  poem  on 
which  he  had  been  trying  to  concentrate 
his  mind,  and  cried  eagerly : 

"  I  'm  at  the  Countess's  disposal.  I  '11 
wait  on  her  at  once." 

"  The  Countess  is  already  on  her  way 
here/'  was  the  servant's  answer. 

The  first  transports  of  joy  are  perhaps 
better  left  in  a  sacred  privacy.  Indeed 
the  Count  was  not  for  much  explanation, 
or  for  many  words.  What  need  was 
there?  The  Countess  acquiesced  in  his 
view  with  remarkable  alacrity ;  the  fewer 
words  there  were,  and  especially,  perhaps, 
the  fewer  explanations,  the  easier  and 
more  gracious  was  her  part.  She  had 
thought  the  matter  over,  there  in  the 
solitude  to  which  her  Andrea's  cruelty 
had  condemned  her :  and,  yes,  she  would 
take  the  oath— in  fact  any  number  of 
oaths— to  hold  no  further  communication 
whatever  with  Paul  de  Roustache. 

"  Ah,  your  very  offer  is  a  reproach  to 
me,"  said  the  Count,  softly.  "  I  told  you 
195 


Captain  Dieppe 


that  now  I  ask  no  oath,  that  your  promise 
was  enough,  that—" 

"  You  told  me  ? "  exclaimed  the  Count- 
ess, with  some  appearance  of  surprise. 

"  Why,  yes.  At  least  I  begged  Dieppe 
to  tell  you  in  my  name.  Did  n't  he  ? " 

For  a  moment  the  Countess  paused, 
engaged  in  rapid  calculations,  then  she 
said  sweetly : 

"  Oh,  yes,  of  course !  But  it 's  not  the 
same  as  hearing  it  from  your  own  lips, 
Andrea." 

"  Where  did  you  see  him  ? "  asked  the 
Count.  "Did  he  pass  the  barricade? 
Ah,  we  '11  soon  have  that  down,  won't  we  ? " 

"Oh,  yes,  Andrea ;  do  let  's  have  it 
down,  because—" 

"  But  where  did  you  and  Dieppe  have 
your  talk  ? " 

"  Oh— oh— down  by  the  river,  Andrea." 

"He  found  you  there?" 

"Yes,  he  found  me  there,  and— and 
talked  to  me." 

"And  gave  you  back  the  ring?"  in- 
quired the  Count,  tenderly. 
196 


The  Journey  to  Rome 


The  Countess  took  it  from  her  pocket 
and  handed  it  to  her  husband.  "I  'd 
rather  you  'd  put  it  on  yourself,"  she 
said. 

The  Count  took  her  hand  in  his  and 
placed  the  ring  on  her  finger.  It  fitted 
very  well,  indeed.  There  could  be  no 
doubt  that  it  was  made  for  the  hand  on 
which  it  now  rested.  The  Count  kissed 
it  as  he  set  it  there. 

At  last,  however,  he  found  time  to  re- 
member the  obligations  he  was  under  to 
his  friend. 

"  But  where  can  our  dear  Dieppe  be  ? " 
he  cried.  "  We  owe  so  much  to  him." 

"Yes,  we  do  owe  a  lot  to  him,"  mur- 
mured the  Countess.  "But,  Andrea—" 

"  Indeed,  my  darling,  we  must  n't  for- 
get him.  I  must— 

"  No,  we  must  n't  forget  him.  Oh,  no, 
we  won't.  But,  Andrea,  I— I  Ve  got 
another  piece  of  news  for  you."  The 
Countess  spoke  with  a  little  timidity,  as 
if  she  were  trying  delicate  ground,  and 
were  not  quite  sure  of  her  footing. 
197 


Captain  Dieppe 

"More  news?  What  an  eventful 
night ! » 

He  took  his  wife's  hand.  Away  went 
all  thoughts  of  poor  Dieppe  again. 

"Yes,  it 's  so  lucky,  happening  just  to- 
night. Lucia  has  come  back !  An  hour 
ago ! '•' 

"  Lucia  come  back ! "  exclaimed  the 
Count, gladly.  "That's good  news, indeed." 

"  It  '11  delight  her  so  much  to  find  us 
—to  find  us  like  this  again,  Andrea." 

"Yes,  yes,  we  must  send  for  her.  Is 
she  in  her  room?  And  where  has  she 
come  from?" 

"  Rome,"  answered  the  Countess,  again 
in  a  rather  nervous  way. 

"  Rome !  "  cried  the  Count  in  surprise. 
"  What  took  her  to  Rome  ? " 

"She  does  n't  like  to  be  asked  much 
about  it,"  began  the  Countess,  with  a 
prudent  air. 

"  I  'm  sure  I  don't  want  to  pry  into  her 
affairs,  but—" 

"  No,  I  knew  you  would  n't  want  to  do 
that,  Andrea." 

198 


The  Journey  to  Rome 


"  Still,  my  dear,  it  's  really  a  little  odd. 
She  left  only  four  days  ago.  Now  she  's 
back,  and—" 

The  Count  broke  off,  looking  rather 
distressed.  Such  proceedings,  accom- 
panied by  such  mystery,  were  not,  to  his 
mind,  quite  the  proper  thing  for  a  young 
and  unmarried  lady. 

"I  won't  ask  her  any  questions,"  he 
went  on,  "  but  I  suppose  she  's  told  you, 
Emilia?" 

aOh,  yes,  she  's  told  me,"  said  the 
Countess,  hastily. 

"And  am  I  to  be  excluded  from  your 
confidence  ? " 

The  Countess  put  her  arms  round  his 
neck. 

"Well,  you  know,  Andrea,"  said  she, 
"you  do  sometimes  scoff  at  religion- 
well,  I  mean  you  talk  rather  lightly 
sometimes,  you  know." 

"Oh,  she  went  on  a  religious  errand, 
did  she!" 

"Yes,"  the  Countess  answered  in  a 
more  confident  tone.  "  She  particularly 
199 


Captain  Dieppe 

wanted  to  consult  the  Bishop  of  Mesopo- 
tamia. She  believes  in  him  very  much. 
Oh,  so  do  I.  I  do  believe,  Andrea,  that 
if  you  knew  the  Bishop  of—" 

"My  dear,  I  don't  want  to  know  the 
Bishop  of  Mesopotamia;  but  Lucia  is 
perfectly  at  liberty  to  consult  him  as 
much  as  she  pleases.  I  don't  see  any 
need  for  mystery." 

"No,  neither  do  I,"  murmured  the 
Countess.  "But  dear  Lucia  is— is  so 
sensitive,  you  know." 

"I  remember  seeing  him  about  Rome 
very  well.  I  must  ask  Lucia  whether  he 
still  wears  that—" 

"Really,  the  less  you  question  Lucia 
about  her  journey  the  better,  dear 
Andrea,"  said  the  Countess,  in  a  tone 
which  was  very  affectionate,  but  also 
marked  by  much  decision.  And  there  can 
be  no  doubt  she  spoke  the  truth,  from 
her  own  point  of  view,  at  least. 
"Would  n't  it  be  kind  to  send  for  her 
now?"  she  added.  In  fact  the  Countess 
found  this  interview,  so  gratifying  and 
200 


The  Journey  to  Rome 


delightful  in  its  main  aspect,  rather  diffi- 
cult in  certain  minor  ways,  and  Lucia 
would  be  a  convenient  ally.  It  was 
much  better,  too,  that  they  should  talk 
about  one  another  in  one  another's  pres- 
ence. That  is  always  more  straightfor- 
ward ;  and,  in  this  case,  it  would  minimise 
the  chances  of  a  misunderstanding  in  the 
future.  For  instance,  if  Lucia  showed 
ignorance  about  the  Bishop  of  Mesopo- 
tamia—  !  "Do  let 's  send  for  Lucia,"  the 
Countess  said  again,  coaxingly;  and  the 
Count,  after  a  playful  show  of  unwilling- 
ness to  end  their  tete-a-t^te,  at  last  con- 
sented. 

But  here  was  another  difficulty— Lucia 
could  not  be  found.  The  right  wing  was 
searched  without  result ;  she  was  nowhere. 
On  the  chance,  unlikely  indeed  but  pos- 
sible, that  she  had  taken  advantage  of 
the  new  state  of  things,  they  searched  the 
left  wing  too — with  an  equal  absence  of 
result.  Lucia  was  nowhere  in  the  house ; 
so  it  was  reported.  The  Count  was  very 
much  surprised. 

201 


Captain  Dieppe 

"Can  she  have  gone  out  at  this  time 
of  night  ?  "  he  cried. 

The  Countess  was  not  much  surprised. 
She  well  understood  how  Lucia  might 
have  gone  out  a  little  way— far  enough, 
say,  to  look  for  Captain  Dieppe,  and 
make  him  aware  of  how  matters  stood. 
But  she  did  not  suggest  this  explanation 
to  her  husband;  explanations  are  to  be 
avoided  when  they  themselves  require 
too  much  explaining. 

"  It 's  very  fine  now,"  said  she,  looking 
out  of  the  window.  "  Perhaps  she 's  just 
gone  for  a  turn  on  the  road." 

"What  for?"  asked  the  Count,  spread, 
ing  out  his  hands  in  some  bewilder- 
ment. 

The  Countess,  in  an  extremity,  once 
more  invoked  the  aid  of  the  Bishop  of 
Mesopotamia. 

"Perhaps,  dear,"  she  said  gently,  "to 
think  it  over— to  reflect  in  quiet  on  what 
she  has  learnt  and  been  advised."  And 
she  added,  as  an  artistic  touch,  "  To  think 
it  over  under  the  stars,  dear  Andrea." 
202 


The  Journey  to  Rome 


The  Count,  betraying  a  trifle  of  impa- 
tience, turned  to  the  servant. 

"  Run  down  the  road,"  he  commanded, 
"and  see  if  the  Countess  Lucia  is  any- 
where about."  He  returned  to  his  wife's 
side.  "  One  good  thing  about  it  is  that 
we  can  have  our  talk  out,"  said  he. 

"Yes,  but  let  's  leave  the  horrid  past 
and  talk  about  the  future,"  urged  the 
Countess,  with  affection— and  no  doubt 
with  wisdom  also. 

The  servant,  who  in  obedience  to  the 
Count's  order  ran  down  the  road  towards 
the  village,  did  not  see  the  Countess 
Lucia.  That  lady,  mistrusting  the  ex- 
plicitness  of  her  hurried  note,  had  stolen 
out  into  the  garden,  and  was  now  stand- 
ing hidden  in  the  shadow  of  the  barricade, 
straining  her  eyes  down  the  hill  towards 
the  river  and  the  stepping-stones.  There 
lay  the  shortest  way  for  the  Captain  to  re- 
turn—and of  course,  she  had  reasoned,  he 
would  come  the  shortest  way.  She  did 
not,  however,  allow  for  the  Captain's  par- 
donable reluctance  to  get  wet  a  third 

203 


Captain  Dieppe 


time  that  night.  He  did  not  know  the 
habits  of  the  river,  and  he  distrusted  the 
stepping-stones.  After  his  experience  he 
was  all  for  a  bridge.  Moreover  he  did 
not  hurry  back  to  the  Castle;  he  had 
much  to  think  over,  and  no  inviting 
prospect  lured  him  home  on  the  wings 
of  hope.  What  hope  was  there  ?  What 
hope  of  happiness  either  for  himself  or 
for  the  lady  whom  he  loved?  If  he 
yielded  to  his  love,  he  wronged  her— her 
and  his  own  honour.  If  he  resisted,  he 
must  renounce  her— aye,  and  leave  her, 
not  to  a  loving  husband,  but  to  one  who 
deceived  her  most  grossly  and  most 
cruelly,  in  a  way  which  made  her  own 
venial  errors  seem  as  nothing  in  the 
Captain's  partial,  pitying  eyes.  In  the 
distress  of  these  thoughts  he  forgot  his 
victories:  how  he  had  disposed  of  Paul 
de  Roustache,  how  he  had  defeated  M. 
Guillaume,  how  his  precious  papers  were 
safe,  and  even  how  the  Countess  was 
freed  from  all  her  fears.  It  was  her 
misery  he  thought  of  now,  not  her  fears. 

204 


The  Journey  to  Rome 


For  she  loved  him.     And  in  his  inmost 
heart  he  knew  that  he  must  leave  her. 

Yes;  in  the  recesses  of  his  heart  he 
knew  what  true  love  for  her  and  a  true 
regard  for  his  own  honour  alike  de- 
manded. But  he  did  not  mean  that, 
because  he  saw  this  and  was  resolved  to 
act  on  it,  the  Count  should  escape  cas- 
tigation.  Before  he  went,  before  he  left 
behind  him  what  was  dearest  in  life,  and 
again  took  his  way  alone,  unfriended, 
solitary  (penniless  too,  if  he  had  hap- 
pened to  remember  this),  he  would  speak 
his  mind  to  the  Count,  first  in  stinging 
reproaches,  later  in  the  appeal  that  friend- 
ship may  make  to  honour;  and  at  the 
last  he  would  demand  from  the  Count, 
as  the  recompense  for  his  own  services, 
an  utter  renunciation  and  abandonment 
of  the  lady  who  had  dropped  the  locket 
by  the  ford,  of  her  whom  the  driver  had 
carried  to  the  door  of  the  house  which 
the  Countess  of  Fieramondi  honoured 
with  her  gracious  presence.  In  drawing 
a  contrast  between  the  Countess  and  this 
205 


Captain  Dieppe 

shameless  woman  the  last  remembrance 
of  the  Countess's  peccadilloes  faded  from 
his  indignant  mind.  He  quickened  his 
pace  a  little,  as  a  man  does  when  he  has 
reached  a  final  decision.  He  crossed  the 
bridge,  ascended  the  hill  on  which  the 
Castle  stood,  and  came  opposite  to  the 
little  gate  which  the  Count  himself  had 
opened  to  him  on  that  first  happy — or 
unhappy— night  on  which  he  had  become 
an  inmate  of  the  house. 

Even  as  he  came  to  it,  it  opened,  and 
the  Count's  servant  ran  out.  In  a  mo- 
ment he  saw  Dieppe  and  called  to  him 
loudly  and  gladly. 

"Sir,  sir,  my  master  is  most  anx- 
ious about  you.  He  feared  for  your 
safety." 

"  I  'm  safe  enough,"  answered  Dieppe, 
in  a  gloomy  tone. 

"He  begs  your  immediate  presence, 
sir.  He  is  in  the  dining-room." 

Dieppe  braced  himself  to  the  task 
before  him. 


206 


The  Journey  to  Rome 


"  1  will  follow  you,"  he  said ;  and  pass- 
ing the  gate  he  allowed  the  servant  to 
precede  him  into  the  house.  "Now 
for  what  I  must  say ! "  he  thought,  as 
he  was  conducted  towards  the  dining- 
room. 

The  servant  had  been  ordered  to  let 
the  Count  know  the  moment  that  Cap- 
tain Dieppe  returned.  How  obey  these 
orders  more  to  the  letter  than  by  usher- 
ing the  Captain  himself  directly  into  the 
Count's  presence?  He  threw  open  the 
door,  announcing— 

"  Captain  Dieppe !  "  and  then  with- 
drawing with  dexterous  quickness. 

Captain  Dieppe  had  expected  nothing 
good.  The  reality  was  worse  than  his 
imagining  The  Count  sat  on  a  sofa, 
and  by  him,  with  her  arms  round  his 
neck,  was  the  lady  whom  Dieppe  had 
escorted  across  the  ford  on  the  road 
from  Sasellano.  The  Captain  stood  still 
just  within  the  doorway,  frowning  heav- 
ily. Sadly  he  remembered  the  Countess's 


207 


Captain  Dieppe 

letter.     Alas,  it  was  plain  enough  that 
she  had  not  come  in  time ! 

Just  at  this  moment  the  servant,  hav- 
ing seen  nothing  of  Countess  Lucia  on 
the  road,  decided,  as  a  last  resort,  to 
search  the  garden  for  her  Ladyship. 


208 


CHAPTER  XI 

THE  LUCK  OF  THE  CAPTAIN 

It  is  easy  to  say  that  the  Captain 
should  not  have  been  so  shocked,  and 
that  it  would  have  been  becoming  in  him 
to  remember  his  own  transgression  com- 
mitted in  the  little  hut  in  the  hollow  of 
the  hill.  But  human  nature  is  not,  as  a 
rule  at  least,  so  constituted  that  the  im- 
mediate or  chief  effect  of  the  sight  of 
another's  wrong-doing  is  to  recall  our 
own.  The  scene  before  him  outraged  all 
the  Captain's  ideas  of  how  his  neighbours 
ought  to  conduct  themselves,  and  (per- 
haps a  more  serious  thing)  swept  away 
all  memory  of  the  caution  contained  in 
the  Countess's  letter. 

The  Count  rose  with  a  smile,  still  hold- 
ing the  Countess  by  the  hand. 
209 


Captain  Dieppe 

"My  dear  friend,"  he  cried,  "we  're 
delighted  to  see  you.  But  what  ?  You  Ve 
been  in  the  wars !  " 

Dieppe  made  no  answer.  His  stare  at- 
tracted his  host's  attention. 

"Ah,"  he  pursued,  with  a  laugh,  "you 
wonder  to  see  us  like  this?  We  are 
treating  you  too  much  en  famille  !  But 
indeed  you  ought  to  be  glad  to  see  it. 
We  owe  it  almost  all  to  you.  No,  she 
would  n't  be  here  but  for  you,  my  friend. 
Would  you,  dear  ? " 

"No,  I— I  don't  suppose  I  should." 

Did  they  refer  to  Dieppe's  assisting 
her  across  the  ford?  If  he  had  but 
known  — 

"Come,"  urged  the  Count,  "give  me 
your  hand,  and  let  my  wife  and  me—" 

"What?"  cried  the  Captain,  loudly,  in 
unmistakable  surprise. 

The  Count  looked  from  him  to  the 
Countess.  The  Countess  began  to  laugh. 
Her  husband  seemed  as  bewildered  as 
Dieppe. 

"Oh,  dear,"  laughed  the  Countess,  "I 

210 


The  Luck  of  the  Captain 


believe  Captain  Dieppe  did  n't  know 
me!" 

"  Did  n't  know  you  ? " 

"  He  's  only  seen  me  once,  and  then  in 
the  dark,  you  know.  Oh,  what  did  you 
suspect?  But  you  recognise  me  now? 
You  will  believe  that  I  really  am  Andrea's 
wife?" 

The  Captain  could  not  catch  the  cue. 
It  meant  to  him  so  complete  a  reversal 
of  what  he  had  so  unhesitatingly  be- 
lieved, such  an  utter  upsetting  of  all  his 
notions.  For  if  this  were  in  truth  the 
Countess  of  Fieramondi,  why,  who  was 
the  other  lady?  His  want  of  quickness 
threatened  at  last  to  ruin  the  scheme 
which  he  had,  although  unconsciously, 
done  so  much  to  help ;  for  the  Count  was 
growing  puzzled. 

"  I— I—  Of  course  I  know  the  Coun- 
tess of  Fieramondi,"  stammered  Dieppe. 

The  Countess  held  out  her  hand  grace- 
fully. There  could,  at  least,  be  little 
harm  in  kissing  it.  Dieppe  walked 
across  the  room  and  paid  his  homage. 
211 


Captain  Dieppe 

As  he  rose  from  this  social  observance 
he  heard  a  voice  from  the  doorway  say- 
ing: 

"  Are  n't  you  glad  to  see  me,  Andrea  ? " 

The  Captain  shot  round  in  time  to  see 
the  Count  paying  the  courtesy  which  he 
had  himself  just  paid— and  paying  it  to 
a  lady  whom  he  did  know  very  well. 
The  next  instant  the  Count  turned  to 
him,  saying: 

"Captain,  let  me  present  you  to  my 
wife's  cousin,  the  Countess  Lucia  Bonavia 
d'Orano.  She  has  arrived  to-night  from 
Rome.  How  did  you  leave  the  Bishop 
of  Mesopotamia,  Lucia  ? " 

But  the  Countess  interposed  very 
quickly. 

"Now,  Andrea,  you  promised  me  not 
to  bother  Lucia  about  her  journey,  and 
especially  not  about  the  Bishop.  You 
don't  want  to  talk  about  it,  do  you, 
Lucia?" 

"  Not  at  all,"  said  Lucia,  and  the  Count 
laughed  rather  mockingly.  "And  you 
need  n't  introduce  me  to  Captain  Dieppe, 
212 


The  Luck  of  the  Captain 


either,"   she   went   on.      "We   've   met 
before." 

"Met  before?"  The  Count  turned  to 
Dieppe.  "  Why,  where  was  that  ? " 

"  At  the  ford  over  the  river."  It  was 
Lucia  now  who  interposed.  "  He  helped 
me  across.  Oh,  I  '11  tell  you  all  about  it." 

She  began  her  narrative,  which  she 
related  with  particular  fulness.  For  a 
while  Dieppe  watched  her.  Then  he 
happened  to  glance  towards  the  Countess. 
He  found  that  lady's  eyes  set  on  him 
with  an  intentness  full  of  meaning.  The 
Count's  attention  was  engrossed  by  Lucia. 
Emilia  gave  a  slight  but  emphatic  nod. 
A  slow  smile  dawned  on  Captain  Dieppe's 
face. 

"Indeed,"  ended  Lucia,  "I  'm  not  at 
all  sure  that  I  don't  owe  my  life  to  Cap- 
tain Dieppe."  And  she  bestowed  on  the 
Captain  a  very  kindly  glance.  The  Count 
turned  to  speak  to  his  wife.  Lucia 
nodded  sharply  at  the  Captain. 

"  You  were  —  er  —  returning  from 
Rome  ? "  he  asked. 

213 


Captain  Dieppe 

"  From  visiting  the  Bishop  of  Mesopo- 
tamia," called  the  Countess. 

"Yes,"  said  Lucia.  "I  should  never 
have  got  across  but  for  you." 

"  But  tell  me  about  yourself,  Dieppe," 
said  the  Count.  "  You  're  really  in  a  sad 
state,  my  dear  fellow." 

The  Captain  felt  that  the  telling  of  his 
story  was  ticklish  work.  The  Count  sat 
down  on  the  sofa;  the  two  ladies  stood 
behind  it;  their  eyes  were  fixed  on  the 
Captain  in  warning  glances. 

"  Well,  I  got  a  message  from  a  fellow 
to-night  to  meet  him  on  the  hill  outside 
the  village— by  the  Cross  there,  you  know. 
I  fancied  I  knew  what  he  wanted,  so  I 
went." 

"  That  was  after  you  parted  from  me,  I 
suppose  ? "  asked  Emilia. 

"  Yes,"  said  the  Captain,  boldly.  "  It 
was  as  I  supposed.  He  was  after  my 
papers.  There  was  another  fellow  with 
him.  I— I  don't  know  who — " 

"Well,  I  daresay  he  did  n't  mention 
his  name,"  suggested  Lucia. 
214 


The  Luck  of  the  Captain 


"No,  no,  he  did  n't,"  agreed  the  Cap- 
tain, hastily.  "I  knew  only  Guillaume 
— and  that  name  's  an  alias  of  a  certain 
M.  Sevier,  a  police  spy,  who  had  his  rea- 
sons for  being  interested  in  me.  Well, 
my  dear  friend,  Guillaume  tried  to  bribe 
me.  Then  with  the  aid  of—  Just  in 
time  the  Captain  checked  himself— "of 
the  other  rascal  he— er— attacked  me—" 

"All  this  was  before  you  met  me,  I 
suppose  ? "  inquired  Lucia. 

"Certainly,  certainly,"  assented  the 
Captain.  "  I  had  been  pursuing  the  sec- 
ond fellow.  I  chased  him  across  the 
river—" 

"  You  caught  him  ? "  cried  the  Count. 

"  No.  He  escaped  me  and  made  off  in 
the  direction  of  Sasellano." 

"And  the  first  one— this  Guillaume?" 

"  When  I  got  back  he  was  gone,"  said 
the  Captain.  "But  I  bear  marks  of  a 
scratch  which  he  gave  me,  you  per- 
ceive." 

He  looked  at  the  Count.  The  Count 
appeared  excellently  well  satisfied  with 
215 


Captain  Dieppe 

the  story.  He  looked  at  the  ladies ;  they 
were  smiling  and  nodding  approval. 

"  Deuce  take  it,"  thought  the  Captain, 
"  I  seem  to  have  hit  on  the  right  lies  by 
chance ! " 

"All  ends  most  happily,"  cried  the 
Count.  "Happily  for  you,  my  dear 
friend,  and  most  happily  for  me.  And 
here  is  Lucia  with  us  again  too !  In 
truth  it  ;s  a  most  auspicious  evening.  I 
propose  that  we  allow  Lucia  time  to 
change  her  travelling-dress,  and  Dieppe 
a  few  moments  to  wash  off  the  stains 
of  battle,  and  then  we  '11  celebrate  the 
joyous  occasion  with  a  little  supper." 

The  Count's  proposal  met  with  no  op- 
position—least of  all  from  Dieppe,  who 
suddenly  remembered  that  he  was  fam- 
ished. 

The  next  morning,  the  garden  of  the 
Castle  presented  a  pleasing  sight.  Work- 
men were  busily  engaged  in  pulling 
down  the  barricade,  while  the  Count  and 
Countess  sat  on  a  seat  hard  by.  Some- 
times they  watched  the  operations ;  some- 

216 


The  Luck  of  the  Captain 


times  the  Count  read  in  a  confidential 
and  tender  voice  from  a  little  sheaf  of 
papers  which  he  held  in  his  hand.  When 
he  ceased  reading,  the  Countess  would 
murmur,  "  Beautiful !  "  and  the  Count 
shake  his  head  in  a  poet's  affectation  of 
dissatisfaction  with  his  verse.  Then 
they  would  fall  to  watching  the  work  of 
demolition  again.  At  last  the  Count  re- 
marked : 

"  But  where  are  Lucia  and  our  friend 
Dieppe?" 

"  Walking  together  down  there  by  the 
stream,"  answered  the  Countess.  And, 
after  a  pause,  she  turned  to  him,  and,  in 
a  very  demure  fashion,  hazarded  a  sug- 
gestion. "Do  you  know,  Andrea,  I 
think  Lucia  and  Captain  Dieppe  are  in- 
clined to  take  to  one  another  very 
much  I " 

"  It  's  an  uncommonly  sudden  attach- 
ment," laughed  the  Count. 

"Yes,"  agreed  his  wife,  biting  her  lip. 
"It  's  certainly  sudden.  But  consider 
in  what  an  interesting  way  their  ac- 
217 


Captain  Dieppe 

quaintance  began !  Do  you  know  any- 
thing about  him  ? " 

"I  know  he  's  a  gentleman,  and  a 
clever  fellow,"  returned  the  Count. 
"  And  from  time  to  time  he  makes  some 
money,  I  believe." 

"  Lucia 's  got  some  money,"  mused  the 
Countess. 

Down  by  the  stream  they  walked,  side 
by  side,  showing  indeed  (as  the  Countess 
remarked)  every  sign  of  taking  to  one 
another  very  much. 

"You  really  think  we  shall  hear  no 
more  of  Paul  de  Roustachel"  asked 
Lucia. 

"  I  'm  sure  of  it ;  and  I  think  M.  Guil- 
laume  will  let  me  alone  too.  Indeed 
there  remains  only  one  question." 

"What 's  that?"  asked  Lucia. 

"How  you  are  going  to  treat  me," 
said  the  Captain.  "Think  what  I  have 
suffered  already ! " 

"  I  could  n't  help  that,"  she  cried.  "  My 
word  was  absolutely  pledged  to  Emilia. 
'Whatever  happens,'  I  said  to  her,  'I 

218 


The  Luck  of  the  Captain 


promise  I  won't  tell  anybody  that  I  'm 
not  the  Countess.7  If  I  had  n't  promised 
that,  she  could  n't  have  gone  to  Rome  at 
all,  you  know.  She  'd  have  died  sooner 
than  let  Andrea  think  she  had  left  the 
Castle." 

"  You  remember  what  you  said  to  her. 
Do  you  remember  what  you  said  to  me  ? " 

"When?" 

"When  we  talked  in  the  hut  in  the 
hollow  of  the  hill.  You  said  you  would 
be  all  that  you  could  be  to  me." 

"  Did  I  say  as  much  as  that  *  And  when 
I  was  Countess  of  Fieramondi !  Oh ! " 

"  Yes,  and  you  let  me  do  something — 
even  when  you  were  Countess  of  Fiera- 
mondi, too ! " 

"That  was  not  playing  the  part  well." 

The  Captain  looked  just  a  little  doubt- 
ful, and  Lucia  laughed. 

"Anyhow,"  said  he,  "you  ;re  not 
Countess  of  Fieramondi  now." 

She  looked  up  at  him. 

"You  're  a  very  devout  young  lady," 
he  continued,  "who  goes  all  the  way  to 
219 


Captain  Dieppe 

Rome  to  consult  the  Bishop  of  Mesopo- 
tamia. Now,  that"— the  Captain  took 
both  her  hands  in  his— "is  exactly  the 
sort  of  wife  for  me." 

"  Monsieur  le  Capitaine,  I  have  always 
thought  you  a  courageous  man,  and  now 
I  am  sure  of  it.  You  have  seen— and 
aided — all  my  deceit;  and  now  you  want 
to  marry  me  !  " 

"  A  man  can't  know  his  wife  too  well,"  ob- 
served the  Captain.  "  Come,  let  me  go  and 
communicate  my  wishes  to  Count  Andrea." 

"What?  Why,  you  only  met  me  for 
the  first  time  last  night !  " 

"  Oh,  but  I  can  explain— 

"That  you  had  previously  fallen  in 
love  with  the  Countess  of  Fieramondi? 
For  your  own  sake  and  ours  too—" 

"  That 's  very  true,"  admitted  the  Cap- 
tain. "  I  must  wait  a  little,  I  suppose." 

"You  must  wait  to  tell  Andrea  that 
you  love  me,  but—" 

"  Precisely ! "     cried     the      Captain. 
"  There  is  no  reason  in  the  world  why 
I  should  wait  to  tell  yon." 
220 


The  Luck  of  the  Captain 


And  then  and  there  he  told  her  again 
in  happiness  the  story  which  had  seemed 
so  tragic  when  it  was  wrung  from  him 
in  the  shepherd's  hut. 

"Undoubtedly,  I  am  a  very  fortunate 
fellow,"  he  cried,  with  his  arm  round 
Lucia's  waist.  "I  come  to  this  village 
by  chance.  By  chance  I  am  welcomed 
here  instead  of  having  to  go  to  the  inn. 
By  chance  I  am  the  means  of  rescuing  a 
charming  lady  from  a  sad  embarrassment. 
I  am  enabled  to  send  a  rascal  to  the 
right-about.  I  succeed  in  preserving  my 
papers.  I  inflict  a  most  complete  and 
ludicrous  defeat  on  that  crafty  old  fel- 
low, Guillaume  Sevier !  And,  by  heaven  ! 
when  I  do  what  seems  the  unluckiest 
thing  of  all,  when,  against  my  will,  I  fall 
in  love  with  my  dear  friend's  wife,  when 
my  honour  is  opposed  to  my  happiness, 
when  I  am  reduced  to  the  saddest  plight 
—why,  I  say,  by  heaven,  she  turns  out 
not  to  be  his  wife  at  all !  Lucia,  am  I 
not  born  under  a  lucky  star  ? " 

"I  think  I  should  be  very  foolish  not 
221 


Captain  Dieppe 

to— to  do  my  best  to  share  your  luck," 
said  she. 

"  I  am  the  happiest  fellow  in  the 
world,"  he  declared.  "And  that,"  he 
added,  as  though  it  were  a  rare  and 
precious  coincidence,  "with  my  con- 
science quite  at  peace." 

Perhaps  it  is  rare,  and  perhaps  the 
Captain's  conscience  had  no  right  to  be 
quite  at  peace.  For  certainly  he  had 
not  told  all  the  truth  to  his  dear  friend, 
the  Count  of  Fieramondi.  Yet  since  no 
more  was  heard  of  Paul  de  Roustache, 
and  the  Countess's  journey  remained  an 
unbroken  secret,  these  questions  of  casu- 
istry need  not  be  raised.  After  all,  is  it 
for  a  man  to  ruin  the  tranquillity  of  a 
home  for  the  selfish  pleasure  of  a  con- 
science quite  at  peace  ? 

But  as  to  the  consciences  of  those  two 
very  ingenious  young  ladies,  the  Countess 
of  Fieramondi,  and  her  cousin,  Countess 
Lucia,  the  problem  is  more  difficult.  The 
Countess  never  confessed,  and  Lucia 
never  betrayed,  the  secret.  Yet  they 


The  Luck  of  the  Captain 


were  both  devout !     Indeed,  the  problem 
seems  insoluble. 

Stay,  though !  Perhaps  the  counsel 
and  aid  of  the  Bishop  of  Mesopotamia 
(in  partibus)  were  invoked  again.  His 
lordship's  position,  that  you  must  com- 
mit your  sin  before  you  can  be  absolved 
from  the  guilt  of  it,  not  only  appears 
most  logical  in  itself,  but'  was,  in  the  cir- 
cumstances of  the  case,  not  discouraging. 


223 


A    000110808 


